8. June #2
A tickling chill runs up my spine, a strange unsteady feeling coursing over me.
I turn, glancing behind me and studying the people going to and from, trying to find anything peculiar.
Cars scurry by, one pulling into a parking spot a few buildings down, another across the street.
I'm being paranoid, but why? I've walked through here more times than I can count; why am I suddenly tuning in to some strange sensation?
Maybe I'm hyper-fixating; my mind playing tricks on me in its weak attempt to distract me from all the issues popping up in my life. That must be it. Because what else could it be? Someone following me? For what reason?
I shake it off and go the rest of the way into the Haven, spotting the place I’m supposed to meet Cora at for our night out together.
I cross the street between two cars and dart into the bar without taking another look around.
If someone really was trailing me, they’re going to have to wait me out because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.
I scan the crowd, my sights settling on the beautiful blonde chatting with a guy near the bathrooms. Her body language is telling me she’s not interested, but his is showing that he’s not quite ready to give up. Guys really can be oblivious at times.
I push through until I'm beside her, sliding my hand around her waist. "Hey, honey. Sorry, I'm late." I kiss her cheek and focus on the newly puzzled guy. "Thanks for keeping my girl company while I finished up at work."
He blinks a few times as if he can rid me from his vision if he tries hard enough. “Wait, you’re…”
I cut him off. “In a committed relationship?” I nod and slap his shoulder. “Afraid so, bud. You’ll have to try picking up a different chick tonight.”
“I—I didn’t realize.” The rather boring guy struggles to find the words to say.
“Honest mistake.” I grab her left hand and rub my thumb along her ring finger. “I really need to wife this one up.”
The man takes a swig of his beer and steps away. “I guess so.”
Once he’s out of sight, Cora can no longer hold in her laugh. “That was incredible. You’re my favorite human on the entire planet. He had me cornered for ten minutes telling me about his fantasy football league.”
I wink at her and position the straw of her drink to have a sip. "Your taste in alcohol is really a deal-breaker though, sweetheart. Maybe I'll have to throw you back to the wolves."
“You wouldn’t.” She weaves her arm around mine and pulls me toward the bar. “Let’s get you something a little stronger, my hero. It’s the least I could do after you pretended to be my girlfriend.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” And with the monetary exchange, it’s almost like I’m her hooker, too.
Cora orders us each a double of tequila, our go-to to get wasted, and a pitcher of Floki.
“You going to pace yourself tonight or black out on me again?”
“You going to flirt with another tattooed hottie and make me the third wheel?” Cora grins and hands me the two tall shot glasses.
“Those days are behind me, I’m going celibate.”
Cora narrows her gaze and rolls her eyes. “Fat chance. Hell is likely to freeze over first.”
"You have no faith in me." I slide onto a stool and set our drinks on the table, shoving one in her direction.
“Oh, I do. Just not in that department. Especially with those three on your radar.” She picks up the glass, holding it out in front of her. “To all of June’s sexy admirers. May she leave some for the rest of us.”
“I am not cheersing to that.”
“You will, and you’ll like it.” Cora reaches over and raises my arm for me, clinking the two shots together. “Down the hatch, girlfriend.”
I tip it back and swallow the golden liquid—the burn of it lacing down my chest and into my belly, spreading out through my body.
Cheap, but efficient. Nothing at all like the stuff Dominic, Coen, and Magnus drink.
Now the strange coincidence makes sense, considering they know each other in such an intimate way.
Roommates. If I didn’t see it for myself, I’d never believe it.
Those three couldn’t be any more different than they already are.
Dominic, the salt-and-pepper man who could easily kill someone with just one stare.
He’s serious and a total enigma. Magnus, the inked baddie with such a bubbly personality.
Adorable with a hint of darkness about him.
And Coen, my blast from the past. Handsome surfer boy wielding a handgun and a darkness about him that is nothing like what I remember.
What the hell was that about anyway?
Never in a million years would I have imagined Coen that way.
Protective, sure, but not with a weapon.
Not with something so…deadly. His sights were trained on me, ready to shoot first and maybe bother with questions later.
The Coen I remember was soft and gentle, and kissed me with such caution like I might break if he was too rough.
Cora sighs, resting her head in her hands. “Which one are you daydreaming about? The hot older dude? What was his name again?”
“Dominic.”
“God, it’s so fitting.” She releases her hold on herself and drags an empty mug over to fill it with beer. “Wonder where I can find a trio of men that sexy?”
“You do realize they’re not actually mine, right?” It’s like Cora has made up this imaginary universe where I’m dating all three of these dudes.
“Shh. You’re ruining my fantasy.” Cora slides my full drink.
I take it gratefully and down half of it in one swig, muffling the burp that rises.
“Ladylike.”
“You know me.” I should have been born a dude, between my manners and insane sex drive, I can pretty much out drink and fuck any guy. Which makes for one hell of a first impression, not to mention the last, considering I don’t stick around long.
“I was thinking…” Cora raises her brow, the figurative light bulb going off over her head.
“Yeah?” I glance around the noisy place and then focus on her.
“What if, when we finish with this,” she points to what’s left of the pitcher. “We go next door.”
She leaves out the last bit, but I know exactly what she’s alluding to. “To the Fox Hole?”
Cora presses her palms together and brings them close to her chest. “Please, please, please.” She even goes as far as jutting out her bottom lip.
I sigh and lean back in my chair. “I am not drunk enough for this.”
Her green eyes go wide. “Really? We can go?”
I shake my head. “How could I ever deprive you, especially when you pout like that?”
“You’re the best.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my forearm.
“That’s debatable.” I down my beer, while saying a silent prayer to the universe to lift my high tolerance and let me feel a little bit of a buzz.
The Fox Hole is packed, just as I expected. Loud music blares and bodies become one on the massive dance floor.
Cora practically squeals when we enter the place, making any reservations I had about coming in here go away.
To see her smile, be happy, it’s enough to get me to do nearly anything.
She’s a hell of a good friend, and accompanying her to dance her little heart out is the least I could do.
We’ve been there for each other through some dark times, so it only makes sense to let some light in for once.
“I’ll get us drinks,” Cora yells over the chaotic noise.
“You sure?” I shove my hand into my pocket. “I can pay for this round.”
But before I can give her the twenty I pull out, she takes off toward the bar, leaving me standing here looking like I’m talking to myself.
The song ends, another one picking up where it left off. The throng of people jump to the beat, the DJ doing his best to pump up the crowd.
I mentally prepare myself to join them. To become one of the many thrusting myself like a wild person.
I’ll fuck a stranger in a bathroom, but dancing in public is what throws me for a loop.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy it, either thing actually, I just prefer to be inebriated when I’m doing it. The fact that I always seem to make questionable choices when I get drunk enough to dance is why it happens on a more selective basis.
Cora reappears beside me, two of our usual in her grasp. “Here.”
“To bad decisions.” I clink mine against hers, keeping eye contact with her the whole time.
We down them and leave the empty glasses on the nearby table with other discarded drinkware.
Cora weaves her fingers around mine and tugs me toward the gathering of tipsy folk.
My head swims, the alcohol finally starting to take effect.
An alternate cool and warm feeling taking over me in the best way.
Like a temporary weight is lifted from my shoulders, the worries of my life being carried away on a train that will hit me full force with a hangover tomorrow morning.
But for now, I’ll embrace the freedom and the carelessness it provides.
With each step, the choice to go out on the dance floor evolves more into my decision rather than Cora’s. Or maybe it’s just the liquor doing the talking. Either way, I’m here for it.
I shove my phone into the pocket of my tight black jeans and hope that no one steals it. The concern should be higher, but my mind is doing that thing I asked for—caring less. I slide in behind Cora, fitting into a small gap around a bunch of other people.
The EDM beat fades and a Cardi B song comes on. Cora’s eyes light up and she beams, her body shifting provocatively from side to side. She grabs my hands and pulls me closer, giggling and grinning the entire time.
We get lost in the sound, in each other, in forgetting the world exists outside this dance floor. Two best friends allowing all their troubles to be ignored for the shortest blip in time.