COKE.
DUCK
10:23 PM
The whole bottomhalf 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 kissinghis 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.
