Chapter 15
ELLIOTT
August
Get me Jack n cock
Cock
Cock
COKE.
DUCK
10:23 PM
The whole bottom half of Broadway has been blocked off by barricades—not that a car could get through the swarm of people spilling from the bars into the street even without them.
Some bro country band plays too loudly from the stage that has been set up down by the river. There are a shitload of cowboy boots, sequins, and stupid glasses made of glow sticks.
August comes back from buying the first round with a black and gold top hat perched on his head, looking like an idiot. Loren asks where he got it, and he whips out a pair of glasses with the year as the frame for her.
Loren thanks him for the beer and the glasses, which look damn good on her, I must admit.
“Fear not, Elliott. I didn’t forget you.” August takes off his hat, revealing a second underneath.
“Yeah, I’m not wearing that.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve. Don’t be such a Debbie Downer.”
Loren’s plastic glasses slip down her nose when she nods in agreement. “Yeah, Elliott. Don’t be such a Debbie Downer.”
I hate the hat almost as much as I hate August’s smiling face. “Fine.” I take the damn thing and shove it on my head. If I don’t, he’s liable to end up calling me Debbie for the foreseeable future.
One night at work he called me Freddie Frowner the entire shift.
Loren salutes me with her bottle, saying the hat doesn’t look half bad. Not exactly a compliment, but the closest thing to it that this woman has ever given me.
Loren’s glossed lips wrap around the top of the bottle, and her throat bobs when she swallows.
I’m not proud of where my mind goes next, but the gutter and I are well-acquainted when it comes to my neighbor. Started the first day I saw her outside her apartment wrestling that mattress and hasn’t gotten better since.
The rest of the assholes around us nudge each other and stare blatantly at her. So sue me if I step a little closer to make it look like we’re together. I’m only doing it for Loren.
Who wants to spend their night fending off unwanted advances?
It’s too loud for a proper conversation, so we drink to the tune of whining steel guitars and pounding drums while August’s thumbs fly across his phone’s screen.
I’m nearly finished with my beer when two petite women in matching pink sequined dresses and hot pink cowboy boots appear out of nowhere, throwing their arms around August’s neck and kissing his cheeks.
Their lipstick leaves smudges all over his face, but I decide not to tell him and snap a picture instead for future blackmail situations, should they arise.
As if they realize Loren and I are staring, the two women turn and offer matching smiles.
Twins.
Of course they are.
August introduces them as Tamela and Tamille, tapping his beer bottle against mine, his dark eyes filled with humor. Since it’s my round, I offer to buy everyone another drink. When Loren doesn’t immediately respond, I lean down close to her ear so she can hear me. “You want another one?”
A smile and a loud “What?” are all I get. Well, that and a waft of peaches.
Shampoo? Perfume? Unclear.
Either way, it’s hazardous for my self-control.
My fingers strangle the empty bottle in my fist. “Do you want another beer?”
“Nah, I’m good,” she shouts, giving me a thumbs up. “Don’t really feel like drinking too much tonight. Just here for the fireworks. If you want to have a few more, I don’t mind driving.”
I don’t like people driving my truck, but the longer I look at Loren, the drier my throat gets.
I’m starting to worry that the only way I’m going to survive a night with this woman is through copious amounts of alcohol.
Still, I feel guilty even thinking of having another drink when this is supposed to be her night out too.
“I didn’t invite you just so you could be the DD.
We can grab a ride share later, and I’ll get my truck tomorrow. ”
“I know you didn’t. I’m the one offering. Besides, I’d say all the ride shares have probably been pre-booked, so we’ll be waiting forever. Go.” She shoves me toward one of the vendors selling beer from a cart.
The woman is stronger than she looks.
I fish my keys from my pocket and drop them into her palm. “They’re my only set. Don’t lose them in your ridiculous purse.”
Although she makes a point to roll her eyes, she tucks them into her bag, and I wonder if she’ll ever find them again.
LOREN
Freaking Josh.
That’s all I can think as I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time only to find no messages and no missed calls.
I haven’t spoken to my boyfriend since he left for California. I guess it’s my fault for assuming when he asked me to call him that he’d answer.
If Meg hadn’t gone back to Ohio for the weekend, I’d be out with her, drowning my sorrows in cheap beers at a stale bowling alley.
Instead, I’m here with my neighbor and his cousin, who is currently making out with one of the hot twins.
This wasn’t the plan.
Wine and leftover crab cakes had been in my future, but the thought of sitting around my apartment stewing for yet another night sounded like hell, so I made an executive decision.
It’s not like there’s anything going on between Elliott and me.
We’re friends.
Sort of, anyway.
Josh will get over his jealousy.
Or he won’t.
To be honest, I’m starting to not care either way.
What kind of boyfriend leaves without calling even once, just to say he made it safely to the hotel?
This coming year is supposed to be the year of Loren Piper but with the way this one’s finishing up, I’m not so sure the next one is going to be any better.
The second twin rolls her hips to the beat of the music, both hands raised over her head.
How is she not freezing in that dress? She’s not even wearing any hose.
Elliott returns with four plastic cups pinched in one hand and three in the other. When he hands me mine, I ask what it is.
“Diet Coke.”
Huh. “How did you know I like Diet Coke?”
“There were at least five empty cans in your trash can.”
Maybe I should be appalled that he noticed what was in my trash; instead, I’m reluctantly impressed. This is how low my standards have become. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He mixes what I assume is a shot of liquor in with the sodas, handing them out to the others in our party. His twin doesn’t stop moving even as she swipes the cup and drains the whole lot.
“Your date seems fun.” I feel bad for shouting at him, but it’s the only way to hold a conversation with all this ruckus.
His top hat tilts as he eases closer. “Yeah. She does.”
“Don’t you want to dance with her?”
“I’d rather jump off that bridge naked.”
Not a dancer. Good to know. “That’s one way to celebrate the new year.”
He chuckles into his drink, sipping slowly.
If I had a few more, I’d be out there with her. Unfortunately, sober Loren has no rhythm.
I’ve been told drunk Loren doesn’t either, but this has yet to be proven with hard evidence. Even if it were, drunk Loren wouldn’t mind. She’s impervious to judgment.
A breeze cuts through the crowd, finding its way straight through my sweater. I thought the chunky cable-knit would be warm enough but, like many things this week, I was wrong.
Should’ve worn a coat.
I glance up to find Elliott no longer staring at his gyrating date, but at me, his brow furrowed and a frown on his face. “Are you cold?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Alcohol would warm me right up, but since I offered to drive, I shall die on this frozen hill.
“Don’t be a hero, Loren. We still have two hours before the countdown.”
“I’m honestly fine.”
Rolling his eyes, he slips his arms from his coat, and I know what’s going to happen next because I’ve seen my fair share of movies but when he drapes his coat over my shoulders, my immediate reaction is a high-pitched squeal.
That’s right. I’ve gone full pig.
Elliott leaps back, spilling his drink all over his comfortable-looking boots.
I’d rather have those than his coat, to be honest. Not that I say as much.
I shall take my aching feet to my grave.
“What the hell was that? Are you part bird?”
“Shut up. You startled me.” Turns out, a jumpy Loren is even weirder than a calm one.
Who knew? “You don’t have to give me your coat.
You’re only wearing a long-sleeved shirt,” I say even as I hold my purse between my knees and slip my arms into the sleeves.
The thing hangs off me, but it’s warm and smells heavenly.
This coat might be mine now.
“I dressed appropriately and wore a thermal top under this.”
“This is appropriate for the occasion.” Everyone knows New Years calls for sparkles, and I didn’t have a cute jacket to wear over this sweater. My warm, downy one would’ve looked ridiculous and covered my skirt.
I’ve heard “beauty is pain,” but what no one tells you is that beauty can be a frigid bitch, too.
“Are your feet hurting yet?”
“No.” This earns me a smirk, which I don’t like one bit. “Why don’t you go bother your date?” If she’s anything like her sister, who is currently wrapped around August like a sparkly pink blanket, I bet Elliott’s twin would be more than willing to keep him warm.
“Seems like she’s having more fun without me.”
She does seem to be having a lot of fun grinding between those two guys. Not sure why she’s wasting her time with them though. They’re not half as hot as Elliot. Objectively speaking, that is.
I bump my shoulder against his. “Jealous?”
“Of someone I just met dancing with other guys? Not in the least.”
Considering what I know about Elliott Grant, he doesn’t seem like the type to get too attached.
Unlike myself.
Maybe Elliott can give me some pointers on how to care less and avoid falling hopelessly for every handsome face that looks my way.