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I'm not jealous because I wantwhoJamie has, justwhatshe has. The love of her life here, with her. Ready to settle down and spend the rest of his life in her arms. It's beautiful and amazing and honestly, makes me want to drown myself even further into the bottle of champagne currently residing on the table. Though Jamie and I have already drunk our way through close to three bottles; so far it has yet to help. Maybe I should have joined her when she deemed shots were necessary.
Jamie manages to drag me out to the dance floor with her every now and again, but for the most part, I’m completely content sitting at the worn down bar table, watching her prance around like a love sick fool.
Checking the clock behind the bar, I get a toothy smile from the bartender when my eyes land on him. I smile politely and turn back toward the band and my drunk best friend, currently trying her hand at twerking, which is more than a little funny given where we are.
Paul’sis a hole in the wall dive bar. The kind where you wish you had a bottle of sanitizer to douse your body in upon exiting. It smells of stale smoke and beer and is usually occupied by an older crowd that spend many days sitting along the same bar, wishing their lives were different.
Not that I know that for certain, but it's what I’ve gathered from my obsessive people watching hobby. Regardless, it’s certainly not the type of bar that youtwerkin. Movements like that should be saved for clubs. But alas, Jamie doesn't care.
I think that's one of the things I love the most about her. She is who she is and she makes no apologies for it. In a world where everyone is trying to be something they’re not, she is a breath of fresh air. And one that I’m so blessed to have in my life.
“Wanna dance?” I hear a familiar accent behind me, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand. No matter what happens, I don't think I will ever be immune to Carson's voice.
“Hey.” I spin around on my stool to face him. He smiles brightly at me and leans in for a quick hug. “What are you doing here?” I ask, just as he releases me.
“Came in with some buddies from work.” He tilts his head to a group of four guys crowded at the edge of the bar.
“Just now getting off work?” I ask, surprised that he would be working until eleven at night. I realize he works crazy hours; I guess I just never realized how crazy.
“Yeah. It's been one hell of a day. Or week. Hell, month really.” He lets out a slow exhale and plops down on the stool next to me.
Originally, I thought that maybe he was avoiding me, given the turn our relationship has taken. But seeing how exhausted he looks reassures me that maybe he's just been busy. Either way, I have been grateful for the time apart.
With things taking off with Westin, the last thing I want is to give Carson hope for more when I have no intention of giving him more. But even still, I don't want to lose him as a friend. I feel like we share a natural connection and honestly, that type of connection is hard to find.
“Well then. Let me buy you a drink.” I scoot off my stool and damn near topple over.
“Whoa.” Carson chuckles as he grabs my arm, halting my descent down. “Not your first bottle I'm guessing.” He points to the near empty bottle of champagne on the table.
I hold three fingers up indicating it's our third, somehow surprised that I’m only now noticing how buzzed I am. I'm even more surprised that we’ve managed to drink three bottles of the cheapest, nastiest champagne I have ever tasted. Not that I expected much better from a place like this.
Either way, I'm pretty inebriated. Not staggering, puke my guts out, drunk. But drunk enough that I should definitely switch to water. But, nah. Where’s the fun in that?
“Three.” He laughs, grabbing me by the waist as he helps me back onto my stool.
“Well, Jamie helped me. So maybe more like one and a half.” I point out.
“In that case, maybe I should get the drinks,” he says, before setting off to the bar.
He returns just moments later with a beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other. When he sets the water down in front of me, I immediately pout and push the glass away.
“What are you, five now?” He narrows his gaze, scooting the water back toward me. “Drink. Trust me, you'll thank me later.” He laughs when I huff and turn my face to the side. Of course I'm only messing with him, and if he didn't already know that, when I pick up the water and drain the contents in one gulp, I think he gets it.
We chat for a few minutes and I’m grateful to have the champagne in my system as a buffer. Otherwise, the conversation may have been a lot more awkward than it currently is. He doesn't bring up his confession from a couple of weeks ago and if I didn't know any better, I would say that it's one hundred percent a game move on his part.
Maybe he thinks that if he doesn't bring it up, it will somehow make me think he's moving on, which in turn will make me want him more. Crazy, right? I know, but in reality, it actually works. Not that it's working for him right now. But I know for a fact that in the past it has worked on me.
Jamie bounces from our table, to the dance floor, to the bar with Joey when the band takes a break and back again. By one in the morning, I’m thankful that Carson showed up and that he stayed as long as he has. If not for him, the majority of my night would have been spent alone watching my crazy best friend eye fuck her super-hot, singer, fiancée all night.
“Can I walk you home?” Carson asks, just moments after Joey announces that he is taking Jamie home for the night.
The band is done and the bar will be closing soon, so I start gathering my things.
“Um, sure,” I fumble out, not wanting to walk the six blocks home by myself.
While I may have humored Carson by drinking the water, that does not mean that I haven't spent the last two hours drinking three additional glasses of champagne and then finally agreeing to two celebratory shots with Jamie.
So needless to say, as Carson escorts me down the empty streets of Rockland, I’m more than a little wasted. In a weirdly good mood, I take off jogging down the sidewalk. When I’m less than a half a block from the bakery, I do a full two cartwheels before losing my balance and landing flat on my ass on the curb.
