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Just then, a tall figure approaches on my left. “Rough night?” he asks, and I swivel slowly in his direction—although the stool doesn’t actually swivel, so it’s not as fun as it sounds—and, holding the cherry between my teeth, look up.
I may have a couple of sets of beer goggles on, but there is a hot, bespectacled guy in front of me, giving me a curious look as he leans against the bar. His features are chiseled into a strong jaw and straight nose, and he’s wearing a gray Henley that’s stretched just beautifully across his chest (he definitely works out). Plus, he has great hair. It’s kind of a brown blur on top of his head at the moment, but I have a sense for these things. And those black-framed glasses totally do it for him.
I just caught my dickfuck of an ex cheating. Surely I deserve a little flirt. I try to suck the cherry seductively into my mouth and execute the move so well that the little fucker goes flying into the back of my throat.
My eyes water, making it look like a downpour outside my beer-goggle windshield, and cough, my body trying to rid itself of the offending sugar-soaked fruit. Miraculously, the thing is soft enough to slide partially down my throat, and while Hot-as-Balls puts a gentle hand on my back and leans in with a concerned look on his face, I snatch up my drink and down it. I know, not the brightest idea, but it works. I guess that’ll teach me to try to steal cocktail cherries.
When I’m sure I’ve choked out my last cough and my airway is clear, I accept the cocktail napkin Sexy Pecs offers me.
Wow, you’re still here.
“To answer your question…” I chuckle at his opening line as I dab the moisture from my eyes.
“Rough night indeed.” He nods, folding an arm on the bar. “Is it okay if I keep you company? It looks like your…” He trails off, gesturing with an arm to the seat Dolores vacated minutes ago.
“Sthurogate grandmother.” I blink at him in interest.
“Ah, okay, it looks like she left. I just thought I’d introduce myself and see if you wanted company.”
“Is that a line?”
Because I’ll totally bite.Chomp, chomp!
“It is,” he admits with a sheepish nod. “But a well-intentioned one, I promise. I’m Kyle.” He holds his hand out to me, and I slip my own into it.
Oh wow.
He may look like a hot nerd, but he does not have the hands of one. Rough, warm… andbig. His hand encapsulates mine, and he doesn’t shake it so much as give it a wonderfully sweet squeeze. I don’t miss how his thumb sneaks in a quick caress over the back of my hand before he lets go either. If I were wearing white panties right now, I’d be waving them on a stick in surrender.
“I’m drunk,” I introduce myself in return before shaking the fermented cobwebs from my head. “I mean, I’m Gwen.”
“I love your name,” he muses, giving me a heart-meltingly sincere look. Behind his glasses, his eyes are a maple syrup-like hazel. They’re so beautiful they probably make mine look like a couple of green jellybeans swimming in 7&7.
“Thanks.” I duck my head. “I love your pecs…”
I cringe when I realize what I just said and scramble to redeem myself.
“I mean… uh, I love your ass—no, your eyes—ugh! I love…” My mouth hangs open as I pray for a divine entity to swoop in and whisper intelligent words in my ear. But I’m here on my own, no deities at my beck and call, so I fold my arms on the bar and drop my head onto them.
“Fuh-get it, nevuh-mine,” I muffle into my arms before holding out my little red plastic sword to Kyle. “Here, just end me right now, please. And make it quick.”
His fingers brush against mine as he gently takes the mini sword from me and sets it down. Then he rests a hand on my back, the warmth seeping into my skin as he leans his face down close to mine.
“How about I order you something?” he says gently.
“Sure. Just whatever it is, hold the roofies,” I instruct, one finger in the air.
He laughs, a beautiful, hearty, genuine laugh that makes me feel soft and fuzzy inside… or is that the alcohol? I don’t know. I just know I like his laugh.
“Rest assured, this won’t even have alcohol in it,” he promises, and in a few moments, a light red fizzy drink is set in front of me.
“Ooh…” I pick it up and examine it with interest.
“Ginger ale with a little grenadine,” he supplies as I take a sip.
“It’s delicious,” I say appreciatively. “So what’s a place like you doing in a guy like this?” I ask. Since he hasn’t turned tail and run out the door yet, I figure I can still try to get my flirt on.
“Just wrapped up aStar Warstrivia,” he answers, chuckling at my cheesy line.
