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“Why do you think she hates you? Spill or no alcohol.”
“Cause I keep turning her down.” He leaned again, further this time, and I pushed his face back.
“And why the hell is that?”
“What? She’s a bartender. I just ... don’t have good luck with women who get paid to flirt. And I can’t fault her for doing it, bartenders and waitresses and women in general are criminally fucking underpaid so they have to flirt to pay the bills, and that’s no one’s fault but middle-aged men who think crowdfunding is the solution to legally having slaves again. Don’t even get me started on the tax situation and the price of rent and a gallon of fucking milk, it’s a miracle we have anyone still alive below the upper middle class. I ... wait, what was the question?” He tilted his head and deflated, squinting at me like he just realized who he was talking to. “Oh, Kapri. She’s one of the most beautiful human beings I’ve ever laid eyes on, but I tend to get cheated on and tricked into green card marriages by women who flirt for a living and now I’m wildly insecure about it. I’m sure she’s great and not like that at all, I’m just a broken little bean who just lost a three-million-dollar jet and I’d rather drink than get my heart ... smooshed.”
Kylie blinked. “Whoa.”
“What she said,” I whispered, handing him the bottle without hesitation after that. There was so much more to Ollie than met the eye, and every single time I hung out with him I got to know him a little bit more. “What was her name? The jet. We can drink in her honor since distraction isn’t an option. Tell me her name.”
“My jet is a man, thank you very much, and his name is Neville Longbottom. Not the biggest or the baddest or the most famous little jet out there, but a brave one who served me loyally and well and never let me down when it mattered.”
He drank as I bit back a laugh and made sure everyone had a drink in their hand. “To Neville Longbottom. Brave, faithful, and strong enough to slay Nagini in a fucking cardigan if he had to. He’ll be remembered fondly.”
“The fucking cardigan!” Ollie yelled, clinking my glass as Sterling mumbled something under his breath and joined in, too.
It was a shit night for Ollie, but I was damn proud of him for putting on a brave face and enjoying the rest of it anyway. By the time we all made it home not one of us was sober, yet every single one of us looked just a little bit lighter.
Sometimes ... a night out drinking was exactly what we needed.
