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Fuck worrying about a headache or hangover. I was ready to have a drink. I needed a fucking drink.
I didn't bother inviting Max to come with me. She's probably out on her date with the footballer. Besides, my only experience with this place was by myself, anyway.
Heading to the bar, I order a strong cocktail, sipping it down way too quickly. I don't even leave the bar, just pushing the empty glass back to the concerned bartender.
"Another, please. Extra shot."
"Okay…" he mutters, eyebrows raised as he silently judges me.
I don't even care what anyone thinks of me right now. I just want to stop feeling for a few hours. I'll deal with life tomorrow.
As he hands me the second drink, I push over my cash to him before turning and heading away from the bar. My tolerance is crap, my stomach already churning from the icy cold beverage sitting heavy in my stomach. The lights are blinding me, making the alcohol work its way faster into my system. At least, that's what it feels like.
Someone runs into me, shoving me forward but I pay them no mind as I head to the side wall. Leaning against the black paint, I close my eyes, sipping my cocktail through a straw.
"You really shouldn't close your eyes and leave your drink vulnerable," a voice says.
I follow the sound, annoyed at the familiar dark-eyed heathen staring at me in concern.
"No one is going to drug me."
"You're literally in a college bar," he says incredulously.
I shrug. "Look at me. No one is going to drugme."
He raises an eyebrow, taken aback by my change in personality. But who is he to judge me? He doesn't even know me.
"Rapists don't discriminate. They will target anyone vulnerable."
"So, I'm vulnerable? Who would have figured?" I mumble.
A couple crashes into the wall next to me, lips locked as they dry hump each other, oblivious to the crowd of people around them. I snort, shaking my head.
"He'll fuck you over," I mutter, aiming my words to the girl who doesn't hear or even see me.
"Are you okay?"
I look over at the guy, liquid courage now taking over and eliminating any brain-to-mouth filter I have. "Don't start caring now. I assumed you had forgotten about me."
If he didn't think I was insane before, he probably does now. To his credit, he doesn't run off.
"Of course I remember you. Why would you think that?"
I snort. "You acted like you didn't even know me at the coffee shop the other day."
"Coffee shop?" he repeats, his face pulling up in confusion.
"Yeah. I served you and you looked like you had never seen me before in your life."
He falls quiet for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Oh."
Annoyance fills me and I uncharacteristically roll my eyes. "Yeah…oh."
Shaking his head, he brushes his hair back. "What I mean is I don't drink coffee. I don't go to the coffee shop."
I gaze over, staring at him. "Then who did I serve? Your twin?" I ask sarcastically.
A smile tugs on his lips. "Given that my twin brother most definitely enjoys an early morning coffee every day, I'm going to wager that that is correct."
