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“Oh shit, dude she replied! No thanks to you acting like a fucking thirsty ass.” My buddy Chace says as he holds up my phone he’d stolen from me to stop me from acting like, as he so eloquently put it, a thirsty ass. “In five messages, you told her she was gorgeous and beautiful. Might as well have just asked her if you could fuck a baby into her.”
We sit at the somewhat crowded bar where there seems to be a shortage of women. It makes me wonder what the hell Chace was thinking suggesting we stay here when he thinks with his dick ninety-nine percent of the time. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to. You reek of desperation and I’m ready to get married and start a family vibes.”
“Women love that.”
“Not twenty-two year old, hot Italians that have a bikini pic on a dating profile. Join Match or I don’t know, Christian Mingle for that shit.”
“I didn’t want to join this in the first place. You invited me, took my phone and created my profile all in the span of a shower. Why’d I even invite you here for the weekend?” I groan. I had stupidly thought that having my best friend here my second weekend in D.C. would make this transition easier. After the nasty break up with my now ex-fiancée that resulted in her breaking half of my stuff and kicking me out of the apartment we’d bought together, this teaching job at CGU couldn’t have come at a better time.
“You need to get out there. You’ve been fucking what—like one girl the past four years?” An incredulous look finds his face as if he can’t fathom the thought.
“Well yeah, that’s kind of what being in a committed relationship means.”
“Monogamy is for the fuckin birds.” He sighs as he rubs the heel of his hand into his eye.
“You just haven’t met the right woman,” I tell him as I down the rest of my beer with an ABV that is close to pushing me into dangerous territory.
Do not fucking call Corinne.
“And evidently neither have you.” He swings his eyes towards me. “Or I’m sorry, you and Corinne…?” He narrows his eyes curiously as if he’d missed the last few months. Missed me moping around like a sorry asshole as I mourned the last four years of my life. Years I spent with a manipulative bitch that was undoubtedly the best sex I’d ever had. With a woman who, despite her flaws, had gotten in deep and made me fall in love with her. With her chestnut brown hair and icy blue eyes that could get me to do just about anything. Fuck, I miss her.
NO.
“Fuck off, Chace. Is this you helping?”
“I’m here for tough love. If you’re looking for someone to throw you a pity party, call your sister or maybe James. But this ain’t my lane.” My sister Beth was still in Boston currently dating my other best friend James. I’m not going to say I have a problem with it, but I’m not going to say I don’t either. That asshole better watch his back.
“I’m here to get you laid,” he continues. “Or at the very least a blow job. Because frankly, dude, you need it. How long has it been anyway? Like seven months?”
“We’ve only been broken up for three.”
“My question still stands. James said y’all stopped fucking months before you broke up.”
“God, you guys gossip like girls, I swear to fuck.”
Chace holds his hand up and motions for the bartender. “We are losing focus. I need to reply to hot Bella.”
“Don’t call her that,” I growl, and for some reason it does piss me off. Maybe because I’m thinking once we get there, I’ll pussy out and Chace will end up taking Bella home. Well, not back to my apartment. Fuck that.
I find myself wondering where Bella lives and a part of me hopes that she lives alone in case things were to escalate to a private party.
“Testy.” He hands the bartender—a woman that for some reason Chace isn’t making eyes at—his credit card.
“Thanks,” I tell him as he pays for our drinks. “You’re not into the bartender? She seems like your type?” Strands of thick jet black hair fall from her bun and dance along her mocha skin. She’s stacked like a fucking supermodel, complete with curves that you only saw on a select blessed few. Her full lips, that have a hint of pink, quirk up, revealing a deep dimple whenever Chace talks to her.
“Girl is my type. But your obsession with monogamy didn’t peep the ring on her finger?”
“Oh…I guess not.” I rub my face, scratching the facial hair. “Thought it wouldn’t stop you from flirting though.”
“I don’t believe in going to a buffet if I can’t eat.” He looks at me and then back to the bartender who is heading our way with his card and receipt. “Can we focus? Are we going to Lush or nah? It sure beats the hell out of this place.” He looks around at the bar that is clearing out by the second.
The bartender sets the receipt down and the dimple pops out in full force. “I get cut in twenty.” She smiles and Chace raises an eyebrow at her.
“As flattered as I am, I don’t do other guys’ girls.” He points to the band on her left ring finger.
She flexes her left hand. “I’m not married. Or engaged. Or seeing anyone. I wear it on this hand to keep guys from hitting on me. It works like twelve percent of the time.” She rolls her eyes before she leans forward. “Usually on the guys that I want to hit on me.” A giggle leaves her lips and I watch as Chace shifts in his seat. I can already see how this is going to go down.
