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“You have no idea! Do you know how they are done? Cruz actually held my hands behind my back and made me swallow every bit of it. The drink itself wasn’t so bad, but the whipped cream dripped down my chin, and I felt sticky for the rest of the night.”
The image of her swallowing the shot with whipped cream spilling down her face instantly sends my blood rushing south. Thoughts of her pink lips wrapping around a shot glass fills my mind. I shift in my seat and try to think of something else. She notices and slaps her hand to her mouth.
“Yeah, babe, I know what a Blow Job shot is, and how they’re done.”
“It was humiliating.”
“I’m sure it was all in good fun. One night, the guys were out, and we talked Gabe, Tripp, and Jimi into taking a shot Finn and I learned about in the Marines. It’s the worst shit you’ve ever tasted in your life, but the best part is the bartender mixes it with blue food coloring.”
Her jaw drops then snaps back together. “What is it called?”
“The real name is Sucked a Smurf, but of course, we didn’t tell them until afterwards. We called it a Blue Salute.”
“Why would anyone willingly do that?”
“No one does. It’s a Marine thing, sort of an initiation to newbies. The idea is to make it seem like a badass shot, tempting unsuspecting guys that only ‘real men’ can handle the liquor. Almost any guy that hears this wants to prove his manhood and falls into the trap. My idiot friends are no different. They always wanted to prove that they were as hard as Finn, Max, and me. So one night we tempted them with the Blue Salute. The best part was that no one knows about the dye. Most think it’s blue liquor. When those three finished the shot, we finally told them the truth.
“Tripp and Gabe had already rubbed their lips together so the coloring was now all over. It was fucking priceless.”
It’s obvious she’s trying to hold back laughter, but fails. “That’s…that’s… I can’t even think of what that is. It’s beyond hilarious.”
“Oh, I can keep you amused for days with stories like that.”
Her smile widens. “I’d really like to hear more.”
“Okay, I’ve got all afternoon if you’re free.”
“I don’t have plans until later this evening.”
The way her face lights up wakens something inside of me. Suddenly, I want to know everything about her.
“Okay, then, your turn. Did you always want to be in retail, or did it just happen.”
“That’s a really long story.”
“Already told you, I have all afternoon.”
“I guess the answer is yes and no. Not necessarily retail, but always fashion. I actually went to school for Fashion Design at O’More College of Design.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but like I mentioned Saturday, Clyde’s is a family business, so I’ve worked there for the five years I’ve lived here.”
“What made you choose Fashion Design?”
“My love for clothes, accessories, and design. When I was little, my Aunt Chloe would help me make doll clothes. I’d draw sketches, and we’d spend hours on her sewing machine making these little clothes.” Her eyes are stuck on the wall behind me, and a look of sadness clouds her face. When she looks back at me, the playful mood from earlier has faded.
“So you still design?”
“I don’t know if you call it designing as much as sketching.”
“Do you have anything I can see?”
Instead of her face blushing, she pales. It’s obvious she isn’t ready to share them with me. “Never mind.”
“No, I’m sorry. You caught me off guard. I’ve never really shared my sketches outside school and family. But if you want to see, I can show you.”
She reaches over and pulls a black portfolio from a bag on the floor. I move our plates and scoot closer to her as she lays out papers on the table. I know absolutely nothing about fashion design, but what I’m looking at is incredible. One dress in particular catches my eye. I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on her that night. The deep blue color of the material was the same shade as her eyes.
