AllFreeNovel
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She’s not wrong. I’ve been caught in a whirlpool tearing me apart between saying, Screw Reese forever and ever, full stop—and then wondering, What if I’m wrong? What if Reese is right and Holly is a phony and I didn’t believe him about this thing that mattered more than anything else? After everything we’ve been through, shouldn’t that be the first thing that I do?
“I’m just distracted, that’s all,” I brush off. “I’ve been sneaking around the house all week?—”
“Which I still don’t understand,” Quinn interjects. “I told you my couch was free. Why haven’t you just quit?”
“I can’t abandon Violet like that, Q.”
Her face softens. “I know you care about the girl, Olivia, but it can’t be good for you, forcing yourself to stick around for her. Reese is gonna use that against you to keep you there, after being a lying, two-timing tramp!”
Her voice is so loud that, even in the busy club, people notice. Several other patrons look our way. I give them apologetic waves while Quinn sticks her pierced tongue out at them.
“All I’m saying is, you have to stand up for yourself.” She turns her attention back to me. “I know that you love that little girl to pieces. But babe, this ain’t it. You’re not the type to put up with liars. You deserve better. You’re a sweet baby angel, pure as the driven snow, and it isn’t right for him to drag your heart through the mud.”
She’s not wrong—well, maybe about the “pure as driven snow” part, but not the rest of it—and I hate it. I hate even more that there’s a part of me that desperately wants to believe that maybe Reese is right and Holly is just crazy.
“Ugh. I’m too sober for this conversation,” I complain. “Another round?”
Quinn’s face lights up. “That’s my girl!” She turns to lean over the bar and whistle at the bartender. “Ohhh, lover boy!” she hoots. She bats her pink mascara-tinged lashes and asks for something sweet and strong for the both of us.
The bartender, a cute-enough guy who looks to be just barely on the legal side of twenty-one, obliges her request with a shy smile and steals glances her way the entire time he’s whipping up drinks. He surprisingly doesn’t ask for her number, although, given how much she’d been eyeing Marcus at Violet’s birthday party, the poor guy probably wouldn’t have had a chance anyway.
Either way, his drinks are delicious. A sour-sweet hit of alcohol and whatever high-sugar, artificially-colored flavoring that turns it a vibrant neon blue.
“I feel like I’m drinking Smurf cum,” Quinn remarks when I’m mid-sip. I promptly almost choke and she cackles hysterically as she pats my back. When I’m recovered, more or less, she clinks the rim of her drink against mine. “Bottoms up, baby. We’re getting loaded until all of this feels like a dream you already started forgetting.”
As thoughts of Violet and Reese try to encroach on my mind once more, I cheers Quinn and down my drink. Getting completely smashed wasn’t the goal when I let Quinn drag me out of the house for a girls’ night, but the idea feels more and more appealing as the night wears on.
Lover Boy, as Quinn has taken to calling the bartender, stays close at hand. The drink after the neon blue one is a cotton-candy-pink and pastel-yellow swirl. I have no idea how they managed the combination and it doesn’t really matter. The taste of tropical heaven dances across my tongue, so I ask for another.
The music gets louder. My head gets fuzzier.
Then a round of shots that burns my throat.
Then another fruity, tangy drink that is so bright it could have been radioactive.
Then another shot.
I don’t keep track of just how many drinks Quinn and I have. Why keep track when they’re making me feel better? The weight of the week is miniscule now. I can run from my thoughts about Reese and my fears of abandoning Violet. There’s a fuzzy, cloud-like feeling all the way from the tips of my fingers down to my toes. Quinn and I laugh about nothing and everything.
“Hey. You two look like you’re having fun.”
I swivel in the direction of the voice and the world tilts violently off-kilter. Giggling, I look up to the man in question.
He’s kind of cute, even with the crooked nose that tells me he’s had it broken and badly reset before. His skin glistens with sweat in the strobing lights that flash in sync with the bar’s music.
“Breakup celebration!” I slur loudly.
Quinn laughs and drapes herself over my shoulders. “Yeah. Girls only! Unless you’re paying for another round.”
Through the drunk haze, a warning bell sounds. It echoes vaguely with the sound of my mother’s voice, telling me not to accept drinks at bars from strangers—especially not when I’m drunk.
What actually comes out of my mouth is…
“Make it strong!”
The guy smirks and looks at Quinn. “Same for you, gorgeous?”
Quinn nods energetically. Her cheeks are flushed and sweat plasters her flyaways to her cheeks.
