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Who knew? Maybe my luck was about to change?
4
MITCHELL
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was exactly four minutes and thirty-five seconds away from embarrassing myself in front of one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk on the face of this earth.
One with a delectable British accent to boot.
But right now, I was a few steps away from sliding my butt into my first ever swimup bar experience. I’d double-checked with Leo, and when approached from the left side of the pool, the water never went farther up than waist height, giving me access to the bar without having to do the whole swimming thing, which I couldn’t do to save myself.
Once Leo had wrapped the tour up and shown me to my amazing, super-duper fancy ocean-front suite, I knew the first thing I wanted to do.
I stripped out of my clothes, threw on my swim trunks, and practically flew back to the pool area.
I sauntered around in the shallow end of the pool for a bit, enjoying the Floridian sun beating down on me and greeting other guests with friendly hellos and smiles. The best thing about a vacation, I was quickly discovering, was just how relaxed and friendly it made everyone.
Once I’d worked up a bit of a thirst, I decided to wander over to the swimup bar, a mixture of excitement and more excitement coursing through my veins. Drinking alcohol was already so grown-up, but to be doing it at a swimup bar, well, that was taking adulting to the next level. I felt practically European.
I reached the bar in the middle of the pool and slid into one of the submerged seats. I steadied myself against the countertop and looked around. The area behind the bar wasn’t underwater. It was essentially a caged-in version of a typical, normal-looking bar with a wall of alcohol-lined white shelving and glasses of all shapes and sizes.
"First time here?"
I looked up and was met with the friendly eyes of the good-looking bartender. Shit. Was I that obvious?
"Uh, yeah." I wasn't exactly going to lie. Today had been a day of firsts for me. Maybe it was showing?
My first flight. Which as it turned out, I didn't need to turn around halfway to the airport to get my passport since a driver's license identification was all that was needed on flights within the country. Good to know.
My first time leaving the Golden State, which of course meant it was my first visit to the Sunshine State.
And now here I was sitting—or, more appropriately, half floating, half trying to maintain a dignified upright posture—in a swimup bar for the first time.
Sure, I might have only turned twenty-one two months ago, but it’s not like I was totally green when it came to going out to bars. I mean, I’d been to all the bars in Cowbell Creek...both of them. I was practically a bar-hopping pro.
The bartender slid the drink menu over to me. A gleam flashed in his eyes.
"I’m Brock, by the way. What'll you have?"
Hmm...was it a rookie move to scan the menu? Should I already have had my own drink? Is that what other adults did? They had their own go-to drinks that they could order without needing to look at a drink menu?
Since I didn't, I decided not to risk looking like a complete idiot and went for the menu-perusing option. It's not like it could hurt, right?
I opened it and glanced down, my eyes practically falling out of my head.
Stretch My Ass Open.
Masturbating Butterfly.
Fuck Me With A Double-Ended Dildo.
Venus Mouth Stretcher.
What the hell was I looking at here?
My eyes shot back up. Brock's smile was wider than ever. "We're a little...creative in the cocktail naming department."
"Yeah, I’m gathering that."
