AllFreeNovel
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“Old man,” I tease.
“Baby,” he taunts back. “If you’re not old enough to drink, why come to a bar?”
“Best water in town,” I deadpan, reaching for my glass on the bar before taking a quick sip.
He tilts his head back and lets out a deep laugh.
“Water simply will not do,” he says, his smile still firmly in place. Turning, he signals the bartender.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
“Ordering you a drink.”
“Did you miss the part where I’m not old enough to drink?”
“Since when does that stop anyone?” He winks, turning his attention to the approaching bartender. “Hey, Lucy. Can I get another beer and a...” He turns his attention to me. “What’s your poison?”
“Um,” I stutter, put on the spot. “A Sex on the Beach?” I phrase it like a question, saying the first drink that comes to mind. I’ve never actually had one but I know Claire loves them.
Truth be told, I’m not much of a drinker. Mainly because I’m not old enough, but also partly because anything that alters your mind scares me. Not the feeling per se, more the addiction aspect. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up with an addict as a parent.
“Sex on the Beach.” He flips his gaze to the bartender.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to ask for my I.D., but to my surprise she nods only once, her ponytail bobbing as she does, before she walks away.
“On a first name basis with the bartender, I see.”
“She’s an old friend.”
“Uh huh.” I nod slowly.
“So you like sweet cocktails?” he asks, turning to watch Lucy make our drinks.
“No idea. Never had one,” I admit.
“You’ve never had a drink?” His eyes widen.
“I didn’t say that. I’ve just never had a mixed drink before.”
“WelljustFinley, glad I could be your first,” he says, his eyes on the bartender as she steps back in front of us and slides our drinks across the bar.
He waits until Lucy walks away before picking up his beer off the bar and swiveling back toward me.
I mirror his actions and do the same.
“So, what should we toast to?”
I think on that for a moment before I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “To living.”
“I like that.” He lifts his beer. “To living.” He taps the bottle against my glass before lifting it to his lips.
“To living,” I repeat, fighting the swell of emotions that swarm me as I lift the glass and take a long gulp.
