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Lawrence really does know how to throw a good Halloween party. Everyone is getting involved with the games, and the bar is busy with people waiting for some of the special cocktails that have been made especially for tonight. I push ahead of the queue with my arm protectively around Zooey’s shoulder. I don’t want any of the guys here thinking she’s fair game. Whether she knows it or not, she’s mine now. No one protests as we push to the front of the queue. After all, this is mine and Lawrence’s show. They have no right to complain.
“You did well back there,” I tell her. She smiles, wiping at her chin.
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sticky with apple juice forever now,” she says. Her tongue laps over her lips, tasting them. I wish I could lean in and taste them for myself, but I hold back. Now is not the time. I turn to the bar and scan over the cocktail menu.
“I’m guessing you don’t want a Bobbed Apple Martini then?”
“Not right now,” she grins. “I do like the sound of a Spine Tingler though.”
My hand slides a little down her back, resting just above her ass on her tailbone. “One Spine Tingler it is then,” I murmur. She can’t stop smiling. I can see in her eyes how much she’s enjoying my company. She’s excited by the prospect of being seen together. It’s hot, to say the least. What’s sexual attraction without a little risk?
I order myself a Witch’s Potion and we both watch as the bartender shakes up our drinks. My hand never leaves the small of Zooey’s back, desperate to keep us in contact. It’s just innocent enough that no one will pick up on it, but saucy enough that it’s clear to Zooey how I feel toward her. I wish I could slide my hand down just a little further and feel the shape of her gorgeous ass. I wish I could slip a hand under her ruffled skirts and find her sweet spot. But for now, being in her company is enough.
“You know, I think I could make most of these cocktails,” I tell her, “I did some training in mixology.”
“Oh really?” Zooey asks, leaning in toward me a little suggestively. “Are you good?”
“I like to think so.”
“Well then, I guess you’ll have to show me,” she murmurs. “Why not hop behind the bar and make me a drink? I want it to have a good name as well.”
I grin. This girl has fire and I love it. She bites her bottom lip and it’s so sexy without her meaning to be. Reluctantly, I let go of her waist and move through the crowd. Hopping over the counter in a lithe movement, I ask the bartender to give me some room. There are plenty of eyes on me now - it’s a bold move, putting myself in center stage - but I want to impress Zooey so badly. I let my fingers glide over the bottles at the back of the bar, covered in fake cobwebs and pretend spiders. I want to have a base to the drink that she will like. I grin when I see what I want. I turn around with a bottle of expensive tequila, unscrewing the top.
“Students love a shot of tequila or two…”
Zooey giggles and watches as I pour a healthy portion into a cocktail shaker. I bite my lip and look around the bar for more inspiration. I add a squirt of lemon into the shaker with a smile.
“Tequila without lemon is like a shoe with no shoelaces, after all…”
Zooey rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. I continue my sweep of the bar, adrenaline rushing through my veins. Somehow, this feels like a significant moment. My chance to make my mark. There are plenty of women trying to catch my eye over the bar, ones closer to my age, but not one of them interests me. How could they when Zooey is so perfect, so fresh-faced, so delightfully sexy without even trying?
I catch sight of some honey and smile, grabbing it and measuring out several tablespoons. The golden liquid spills over the spoon and onto my finger. I have an urge to offer it to Zooey to lick off, but I’d have a riot on my hands. Instead, I insert my finger into my own mouth slowly, lapping up the excess. Zooey watches, transfixed. I smile at her.
“Honey...to keep you sweet.”
She’s blushing now. I move slowly and deliberately around the bar. I know where this cocktail is headed now. A splash of orange bitters to make it sharp. A little rosemary. And finally, to finish it all off, a handful of gorgeously ripe blackberries. My eyes meet Zooey’s.
“Dark and tempting,” I say as the berries are added to the mixture. I don’t have to add that she’s got exactly the same qualities as the berries. I grab the shaker and mix all the ingredients together, watching Zooey’s expression as I do. She’s nursing the drink that the bartender made, but her eyes are on the muscles in my arms as I shake the drink. I like that she’s watching me. I like that she’s focused. It makes me even more desperate to make her mine.
