Olivia
“God, I needed this,” Sadie says with a cringe because she just downed a shot of tequila. She bites into the lime and cringes harder. Honestly, I don’t know why we consider this a way of unwinding.
I do one shot with her only because it’s less work than dealing with the backlash I’d get bitch slapped with if I said no.
Knowing my loving yet over the top best friend, she would most likely ask if I was pregnant or something ridiculous.
Obviously, I am not. I’m on my period, which is half the reason I only wanted to make out with Luca last night.
The other half was the aforementioned chess game I have been playing in my brain.
“Do you like my dress?” she asks. It’s glittery and tight and red. It thrusts her perky boobs into the air enough that every man in the bar is eyeing her. Sadie pretends not to notice, though she takes every opportunity to display them.
“It’s cute,” I say.
“It better be cute. It was expensive as fuck. You know, sometimes I wish I could be more like you,” she says, stirring her martini.
“How so?” I ask, sipping my wine and praying it doesn’t get in a fight with the tequila.
I like most drinks, but wine is my poison of choice.
It’s notorious for not playing well with others, which is exactly why I plan on sticking to it for the remainder of the night, which I’m hoping ends by eleven.
“Just the way you are,” she says with a wave of her hand. “You can take anything and make it look chic, even if you did find it at the bottom of a bin at a thrift store.”
I look down at the dress I am wearing. It’s the one I bought today. And while it’s not exactly nightclub attire, it’s pretty, and it’s what I wanted to wear. So I did.
“I didn’t find it at the bottom of a bin,” I tell her, flattening it down. “It was on a rack.”
“At a thrift store,” she laughs a little too loudly, and I know it’s to get the attention of a table of blond-haired, square-jawed college guys sitting about ten feet from us.
I say nothing to that. I simply smile and sip my wine.
Normally, that comment might bother me. Sadie has always had a way of outshining me.
She’s loud, flirty, and knows how to reel men in only to tease them before releasing them again.
It’s a game I’ve never cared to play, even if it drives most men wild.
But right now, I can genuinely say I don’t care.
I love the dress. I love the way I feel in it, and I love the memory of Luca’s face when he saw it. As Sadie flirts, I simply smile and swirl my Chardonnay.
“Where are you at?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “I’m right here. With you. Enjoying a girl’s night out.”
“In body maybe, but your brain is very clearly a million miles away,” she says.
“I had a good day off,” I tell her.
“Any particular reason why?” she prods.
“I got coffee. Went to a couple shops. Found this dress,” I say, showing it off a little with an exaggerated hair toss. “And now I’m sipping wine with my best friend. I’m happy.”
“Well, I love that for you, but you shouldn’t be sipping wine. We should be doing shots. Partying it up. We’re going to be thirty soon, you know,” she says.
“Are we not allowed to have fun after thirty?” I ask, and Sadie rolls her eyes.
“You know what I mean,” she says, and I just laugh. I love giving her a hard time.
Suddenly, the three poodle-headed blonde guys are standing at our table. Both of us perk up, Sadie so she can showcase her tits and me so I can make it obvious that I don’t love being circled at a bar.
“Ladies, it has come to our attention that your shot glasses are empty,” one of them, who has a thick Boston accent, says.
“That tends to happen when you’re done shooting it,” I say, and Sadie shoots me a look with her eyes all while smiling at the guys.
“What she meant was, how observant of you,” Sadie says.
“Would you mind if we did something about it?” he asks.
“I’m fine with wine,” I state with a smile and just enough spice for him to get the hint.
Sadie laughs. “She means she’d love a shot. Right Olivia?”
“I guess I’m bad with words. Silly me,” I say, and her smile falters a little.
The guys ignore me and order a round for us and them. Everyone tosses them back, but I leave mine sitting. Sadie grabs it and drinks it too, without salt or lime.
“Well, look at you riding the bike without training wheels,” one of them says.
“I like to take chances,” she purrs, and he grins.
“How would you feel about taking a chance on me?” he asks, and I have to simultaneously avoid the urge to throw up in my mouth and roll my eyes.
“If you’re asking me to dance, the answer is yes,” she says, and he holds out a hand.
“After I freshen up,” she says, hopping off the stool.
Then she snags my hand and pulls me with her.
I grab my wine glass with my free hand. I may not be a partier, but I know better than to leave an unattended glass on the table.
Once we are in the bathroom, Sadie stands in front of the mirror to primp.
“They’re cute,” she says.
“They’re alright,” I tell her. “A little young.”
“Oh, that’s right, you prefer older men,” she says, and I’m not sure if it’s a jab about Luca or just her normal sass.
“I mean, I prefer men who spend more money on their mortgage than they do on hair gel, yes,” I say.
“What is it with you lately, Livv?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, for the past few weeks you’ve been acting weird. You never have time to hang out. You have zero interest in meeting anyone. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it’s because you’re already seeing someone.”
“I mean, I kind of am,” I point out the obvious. “I thought that was part of this. To actually date Luca, not just go out with him a couple of times.”
“So you’re dating for real?” she asks, whipping around to face me.
Uh oh.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say.
“It better not be,” she snaps back. “Because that would be betrayal.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” I ask.
“No. Of course not,” she says. “But that’s not the point. He broke my heart, Livv,” Sadie says, turning back to the mirror to apply another layer of shimmery, red lip gloss.
The next sentence out of my mouth is probably a mistake. But honestly, I am tired of the games and letting her run my life. “Broke your heart? Or just turned you down?”
Sadie stops, her lips in an O shape and the gloss suspended in the air. She stands up straight and turns to face me again.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just tired and I’m not really feeling this place. I might go home if that’s okay.”
“Suit yourself,” she says, turning back to the mirror. “But if you run into the old Olivia, the one that likes to have fun, tell her I’m looking for her. In the meantime, I’m getting more free drinks.” She grins and tugs her cleavage down a little more before walking out of the bathroom.
Alone, I turn and look in the mirror. My flowery dress. My wavy hair. My light makeup and white wine. Sadie is right about one thing: I don’t look like the old Olivia. But as I stare at myself, I realize something: I prefer this Olivia. And this Olivia is in the mood for something else.
I pull out my phone and send a text, knowing the answer before it even comes back to me all of two seconds later.