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“Unless you want us to!” a raspy female voice rings out above the music.
Turning, my gaze clashes with the woman’s on the stage, and for a moment I’m held captivated. She’s got her hand around the pole, and walks round it slowly, slinking in beat with the music. Her long strawberry-blonde hair flickers under the dim overhead light.
With her free hand, she gives me a little wave.
And for whatever reason, I find myself doing the same. I’ve clearly lost it. Nolan’s finally broken me once and for all. Three years of edging just for this.
She beams and proceeds to catapult herself up the pole.
Eyes wide, I turn toward the bar, slowly making my way over.
“So what’s your poison, cutie?” the guy—Micah—asks, grabbing two glasses.
“Um…beer?” I say, though it comes out more like a question. I flit my eyes up, warily meeting his gaze.
Micah makes a face, shaking his head. “How old are you? Probably should’a carded you first, huh?” He winks. “Don’t tell Lola.”
I glance over at the stage and Micah throws his head back with a laugh. “Nah, that’s Zelda. Lola’s the owner. She’s like seventy-five with a bad hip and pretty much lets us have free reign over the place.”
“He’s lying,” a deep voice says. The guy I thought was snoozing in the chair still has his eyes closed, but a hand raised straight up in the air.
Micah chuckles. “Okay, fine, so Raúl’s basically in charge when she’s not around. Bad hip or not, that woman will fuck you up. Don’t cross her.” He grins. “So, cutie without a name, do I need to kick you out?”
I blink, trying to keep up. “N-no, I’m twenty-one.”
He arches a disbelieving brow.
My cheeks heat. “I turned twenty-one a couple weeks ago. I’ve never…” Glancing behind him, I take in the rows of bottles lit up purple.
“Ah,” he says. “Gotcha. We’ll start off easy then. Now take a seat and get comfortable. I promise we’re cool here.”
Shucking off my bag, I set it on the stool next to me and plop down, resting my sneakers on the rungs, hands clasped together on the bar.
I watch as Micah scoops ice into a metal canister, followed by what looks like vodka and another liquor bottle with an orange label. He seals a lid on it, and proceeds to shake it over his shoulder.
The music switches off, and I hear the quiet tapping of heels clicking across the stage, followed by murmuring.
Looking over my shoulder, I find the woman Micah referred to as Zelda hopping down from the stage. She grabs a ball of fabric from Raúl and proceeds to shake out the over-sized black t-shirt before slipping it over her head.
“Here you go.”
I flinch, whipping forward. This time, Micah’s kind enough to not draw attention to it. He slides the glass to me, and I stare at the red and orange hued drink.
“What is it?”
“Sex on the Beach.”
My head jerks up at that. “What?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s the name of the cocktail. Now take a sip. Tell me if it’s too strong.” He brings a hand to his face, half-covering his mouth like he’s telling me a secret. “It’s not,” he whispers, winking. “But humor me.”
Biting back a small smile, I pull the drink to my lips and take a small sip.
It’s…sweet. Tastes like juice honestly. It’s really fucking cold though.
I take a bigger sip and this time I taste it. Scoffing, I pull it away, smacking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
Micah sighs, yanking it away from me with a shake of his head. “Virgins.”
