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“I’d like to propose a toast!” He stands up from his barstool and punctuates that statement with a wolf whistle.
If there is one person who is a guaranteed distraction in all things, it’s Cap.
For once, I’m thankful for it.
“To the man who is about to give up his bachelorhood in less than fourteen days and commit himself to one pussy for the rest of his life.” Cap grins. “We’re all so happy for you, man. Well, terrified for you, but also happy. Or, at least, we’re pretending we’re happy…”
“You done?” Evan asks with a slightly annoyed, but mostly amused, smirk.
“Almost,” Cap responds and raises his glass in the air. “To Evan, may your dick always be harder than the rest of your happily-wedded-life.”
Evan rolls his eyes. I shake my head on a sigh. Thatch bursts into laughter. And the rest of the guys at Ev’s bachelor party join in on the hilarity. Cheers and chuckles go around the room, until everyone has offered Evan their teasing condolences and downed their beers in his honor.
Tonight, we celebrate my best friend’s last days of singledom.
And being the good best man that I am, I’ve rented out his favorite hole-in-the-wall bar in Brooklyn, invited fifty of his closest friends, and made damn sure the bar would stay open, flowing with booze, and all drinks would be put on my tab.
It’s not even eleven o’clock, and already this crowd of idiots is rowdy.
Thatch and Cap act like they can break-dance in the center of the room, knocking over tables and barstools in the process, while five of our other buddies stand in the corner downing beers through a funnel.
Where they obtained a funnel is beyond me, but who am I to tell them no.
Fuck, it’s going to be a long night.
You’d think the best man would be enjoying the hell out of the groom’s bachelor party, but after what went down with Maybe last night, I can’t stop thinking about her—the off-limits sister of the groom-to-be.
I’ve never felt more like a prick than I do right now.
I feel guilty for keeping this from Evan.
I feel guilty for telling him I would do a simple favor and help his sister out with her career in publishing, and instead of just doing that, I fucking do a whole lot of things I definitely shouldn’t have done and wind up falling for her.
But what’s killing me the most, what’s making me feel like the biggest asshole on the planet, is the way things ended last night with Maybe.
When she asked me to have sex with her, to be the one who took her virginity, I just kind of freaked out. The realization of what I feel for her and what she is to me hit me like a goddamn bullet to the chest—I am in love with her.
In love with my best friend’s little sister.
It all became too much.
Her. The fact that I love her. The fact that we were inside Ev’s old apartment. The fact that she pretty much asked me to fuck her.
Not make love to her. But fuck her.
I had to ease off the fucking gas of this insane, addictive ride. I had to stop it before it went too far.
And now, I’m in the middle of Ev’s bachelor party, and I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t stop wondering if she’s okay. Or what she’s thinking. Or if she is ever going to speak to me again.
It’s all fucked. I’m fucked.
Pretty sure you mean you’re in love with Maybe and fucked.
Yeah. That too.
I order another beer from the bartender, and the instant he slides it my way, I lift the pint to my lips and down half the glass in two gulps.
“Well, well, well, someone is hitting it hard tonight.”
I look beside me to find Cap grinning like a son of a bitch.
“Mind if I join you?”
I nod toward the bartender, and he slides a fresh beer to my obnoxious friend.
He drinks it down and proceeds to call Thatch over and order three shots of tequila.
“Ah hell, tequila?” I question, and Thatch claps his hand on my back.
“C’mon, Mindy,” he teases. “Just open wide, relax your throat, and let the nectar of the gods flow into your belly.”
“You dick.” Cap frowns. “And here I thought I was special. Apparently, that’s the line you use on all the girls.”
Thatch smirks. “But only the girls I really like, bud.”
Against my better judgment, I raise my tequila glass in the air, cheers the two bozos standing beside me, and down the hatch the liquor goes.
It burns the entire way, but I finish off the rest of my beer to soften the blow.
“Another round!” Cap exclaims, and internally, I groan.
Welp. Looks like I’m not getting out of this night without a shitload of booze and a Sunday morning hangover.
