AllFreeNovel
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If this is what addicts feel like going through detox, I can see why they stay addicted. This shit physically hurts.
“Hey man, look alive.” Wyatt sits next to me and bumps my shoulder. “I don’t get too many nights off. Besides, it’s your favorite night. Karaoke night!”
“Fuck that.” I roll my eyes and take another swig of beer. Karaoke had been Olivia’s favorite thing, and she always managed to get me to sing with her. She has the voice of an angel while mine sounds like I smoked a pack of cigarettes before singing.
I’d do anything for her, including singing badly in front of every soul I know.
Apparently, I would also spend the night with her and fuck up our friendship.
Great job, Wright.
“Don’t expect me to be your wingman tonight, Davis. I’m in no mood.”
He holds up a hand. “Bros only tonight. You’d scare the ladies off anyway with that ugly scowl on your face.”
“Fuck you,” I say, but there’s no heat behind it.
“Hey guys! Can we sit?”
With a smile on her face that reminds me of Olivia, Sara stands beside the table with a drink in her hand, Eli standing behind her. His eyes are on me, and he looks like someone pissed in the last of his Cheerios.
“Absolutely.” Wyatt grabs a couple of nearby chairs and pulls them up to the table.
I try to be friendly. They’re my closest link to Olivia now, and honestly, it’s a wonder Eli’s fist isn’t in my face already. “Hey guys, how’s it going?”
We make small talk until the karaoke DJ comes out, telling everyone where they can put in their requests and hyping up the crowd.
Wyatt orders another round while we listen to a few tourists warble through songs. A group of women, obviously celebrating a bachelorette party—with a few of them hitting on me, Wyatt, and Eli until Sara puts them in their place—get up on stage and drunkenly destroy “Dancing Queen” by ABBA.
They have the entire bar laughing, and even I have to crack a smile.
Most of them are blond, in tight mini dresses and wearing too much makeup. Exactly the kind of girls I usually took home and showed a good time. Tourists were especially good because the chances I’d run into them again were slim to none.
It was easy. It meant nothing; it was just sex.
But the thought of touching any woman besides Olivia makes my skin crawl. The kind of girls I usually go for hold no appeal to me at all anymore.
Even my dick can’t be bothered to give a halfhearted salute when the hottest one in the bachelorette party winks and blows me a kiss.
I hope the disgust I feel doesn’t show on my face. It isn’t her fault I no longer find that fake Barbie look appealing.
When they finally leave the stage and settle back at their table, giggling and taking selfies, I decide I’ve had enough.
I drain my beer and set the bottle on the table with a thunk. “I’m going home.”
“Nah, man,” Wyatt says. “We just got here, and I drove.”
I shrug and pull my phone out. “I’ll order an Uber.”
Wyatt sighs. “Alright, fine.” He glances over at Sara, who’s giving him a strange look. “But give me another thirty, please? I just ordered another round and some jalapeño poppers. You know how I love those things.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. “Fine, fine. Eat your fucking peppers and then take me home.” I grab the fresh beer the waitress just put in front of me. “I hope you shit fire tonight,” I mutter.
Wyatt, the fucker, just smiles and claps me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
The DJ starts talking and I tune him out, guzzling my beer.
I need something stronger. May as well get shit-faced if I can’t get laid.
