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Dare: A little bumpy.
Luna Locke: And her place? What's it like?
Dare: Nice.
Luna Locke: And how sure are you she's in love with you too?
Dare: Nice try.
Patrick: It almost worked.
Luna Locke: He answered in his head.
Patrick: You read minds now?
Luna Locke: Always.
Patrick: What am I thinking now?
Luna Locke: You want to toy with your girlfriend.
Dare: Really, Tricky, any of us could have guessed that.
Patrick: Nice of you to rejoin us.
Dare: Why join when you two do such a great job without me?
Luna Locke: Aren't you running out of time with her in the bathroom?
I should be, yeah, but she's not back.
Dare: I'm not sure why I'm talking to you two.
Luna Locke: It's because you want someone to push you to admit your love.
Patrick: Maybe wait for day two.
Luna Locke: Sure, sleep on it.
Dare: She kissed this other guy.
Luna Locke: On your advice?
Dare: Yeah.
Luna Locke: Maybe that's why she's doing it, because it's your advice.
Dare: So, what? I switch my advice to "kiss me"?
Luna Locke: No. You find a reason.
Patrick: Didn't she ask you to show her how to kiss?
Luna Locke: She did? That's adorable!
Patrick: Yeah, when they were fourteen or something. It was her first kiss.
Luna Locke: Was it amazing?
The bartender interrupts with our drinks. He smiles knowingly, says something in Spanish, leaves.
Dare: I gotta go.
Luna Locke: We'll continue without you.
Dare: I know.
Luna Locke: She's your best friend, right?
Dare: Yeah.
Luna Locke: Be honest with her.
Dare: I can't do that.
Luna Locke: Why?
Dare: We'd never work. And I'm not going to mess things up.
Luna Locke: Suit yourself.
Patrick: Just keep your eyes open for a request to show her how to kiss again.
Luna Locke: A follow-up lesson?
Patrick: Imagine all the follow-up lessons you could have.
"Sorry I took forever." Val slides into the booth next to me. "Had to fix my makeup for the 'Instagrammable Cocktails.'"
Isn't the point to take a picture of the drink?
And since when does Val post drinks on her Instagram?
But, hey, that's a more plausible explanation than Patrick's.
"Ready?" she asks.
"To photograph the drinks?"
"Us first."
That makes more sense. I nod.
She turns her cell to selfie mode and snaps a few shots. Normal smiles at first. Then something silly, like we did when we were kids. She sticks her tongue out. I give her bunny ears.
We laugh; she snaps a few photographs of the drinks, sets her cell on the table, raises her drink (in the disco ball and everything) to toast.
"To your future love." She motions to my drink.
"To love." Somehow, I say it with a straight face. To love. The possibility of me falling in love, staying in love, not fucking up love. I don't believe it. But I don't cringe the way I usually do either.
Chapter Eighteen
DARE
The so-called elixir of love is the stereotypical hue of passion: blood-red.
The color attracts some attention but compared to the mini-disco ball in front of Val? Or the LED light panel beneath said ball?
This isn't our usual dynamic. Sure, I prefer to stay on the sidelines. But I don't have blood-red intensity. I don't shrink under attention. I don't pack a massive punch into a tiny size.
And, sure, she sparkles as well as the silver container but doesn't call attention to herself.
Get a grip. They're cocktails, not manifestos.
Val takes a long sip and lets out a groan of pleasure. It's deep and pure and visceral. The sort of inhibition lowering sound caused by exhaustion. "I expected cheap fruit punch, but this is great." She offers me the disco ball. "You want to try?"
I nod and offer her my drink in exchange.
She tries mine first. Lets out another moan of bliss. "That's even better."
"Oh?" I need to hear her groan again. I need to fuck myself to it tonight.
No, I need to keep my thoughts in line.
This is a taste test, not foreplay. I bring the drink to my lips.
I ignore the feel of her lipstick on the straw. I ignore the knowledge she tastes like the liquid in the mini-disco ball.
Fruity and sweet. But not too sweet. A light tropical taste. Passionfruit.
What an aptly named fruit for Val.
She's the most passionate person I know when it comes to movies. If she can channel that passion somewhere else—
Red alert. Red alert.
I straighten my thoughts, return her drink, sip mine.
She's right. The Elixir of Love is better. Deep and rich, with the perfect mix of bitter and sweet cherry.
That's my motto, isn't it? Bitter and sweet is better than one or the other.
It feels empty at the moment. But, hey, I'm here for a reason, and it's not getting my rocks off.
"You ready?" I motion to her cell.
"Right. Yeah. Is it not too soon?" She unlocks the device, taps the screen a few times. "Oh. He texted." Surprise fills her voice.
An odd amount, but hey, I'm not exactly at peak observational skills. "What did he say?"
"He asked if the bar is fun."
