Me
Mark this on your calendar. I’m actually wearing makeup.
Ivori
Damn, girl. You look hot!
Me
Thanks. Wanna meet me for a drink?
Ivori
I’m already in bed
Just send me your location before you go home with anyone
Me
Always
With Travis off my roster, I need to find someone new and quick.
Landon’s shirtless body has been replaying through my mind for days, and I’m about to pour bleach into my eyes in an attempt to erase it. Instead, I’m hoping to fuck the thought of him right out of my memory tonight.
My little black dress is form-fitting and stops mid-thigh, with as much cleavage as I could muster up from my itty bitties, held up by thin straps. Sexy, yet classy. I spent time on my hair and it falls in a silky dark curtain over my bare shoulders. My lined lids and curled lashes make my eyes pop, and a sheer gloss tints my lips.
I’m always in sweats and sneakers, which I prefer. But sometimes, a girl needs to feel desired. This outfit should do the trick.
Swiping my clutch off my dresser, I head downstairs and lock up the house behind me. Just outside of town, there’s a sports bar I like to hang at where I can be sure I won’t run into parents from school. I can be someone else for a night. Forget about my life, about the shitty plumbing, and just enjoy mindless physical pleasure with a handsome stranger. And if I don’t see anyone I like, at least I can watch a game of some sort and have a couple of beers.
“Hi there,” the bartender says, leaning forward to place a napkin down on the bar in front of me. “What can I start you off with?”
“Corona with a lime please.” I point to the closest TV overhead. “Can you get the fight on this one?”
“Absolutely.”
While I wait, I scan the bar to assess my options.
Wedding ring.
Too old.
Too young.
Not my type.
Finally, at the far end of the bar, I spot potential.
The man is sitting between two of his buddies in a blue collared shirt that fits snug around his burly physique. Early forties at most. His arms are thick, and he looks like the kind of guy who could throw me around. A shiver slides through me at the thought.
When the bartender returns with my beer, I gesture to the attractive man. “What’s he drinking? The one in blue.”
“Whiskey.”
I scrunch my nose, and the bartender laughs. “Send him a refill on me, would you?”
“You got it.”
