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“Cheers!” I tapped the shot glass in my hand to the mismatched glasses my friends held, swallowing the gulp of gin. It was our usual Sunday night plans. After working the bar all weekend, we were usually all off on Sunday evenings. Most weeks, that meant pizza, movies, and way too much alcohol.
The burn in my throat was short-lived, but we all still cringed. It was part of muscle memory, I think.
“Another one?” Auston asked.
Before he could pour the shots we all unanimously agreed to, there was a knock at the door. I noted the half-eaten pizza on the counter and scanned the room. Auston and Ash were there, and so was Ash’s boyfriend Jackson, as well as Sky, another bartender. It was the usual group of degenerates, not that any of us would’ve knocked if we were late.
“Are we expecting someone else?” I took the bottle from him and poured the shots he’d paused on.
Auston stood up and crossed his living room to the door. “Just be cool. Don’t start anything, okay?”
I didn’t have a chance to groan or question what he meant before the door was opened. In the doorway stood Simone. She looked carefree with her messy curls and torn jeans, paired with an effortless sweatshirt.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I groaned. Ash glared at me, and Sky looked suspiciously in the direction of the door, her interest likely sparked by my lack of excitement.
“Come in, come in. Let me introduce you to the rest of the gang.” Auston took her coat and set it in the pile with the others, leading her into the living room she was already practically standing in. “You know Asher. This is his boyfriend Jackson, and this is Sky. She tends to work weekends and days. You’ll work with her some this week.”
“It’s nice to meet you!” Sky stood up and hugged her as if they had been friends for years. “From what Auston and Ash say, you’ll fit in just fine.” She nudged her, and Simone smiled.
I scoffed.
“Is there a problem, Logan?” she asked. Her voice was dipped in sugar, and I cringed more than I did with any shot of liquor.
Shaking my head, I tossed back the shot, leaving the others sitting full on the table. “Not at all. Want a shot?”
“Sure. Thanks. What are we drinking?” Simone settled on the couch next to Jackson, who put his arm around her as if they’d been friends for years and hadn’t met only two minutes earlier.
“Gin. That okay?” I tilted my head. A warning. It seemed like most people I met didn’t like gin. Auston hated it too until we had lived together for a year and he quickly realized it was always my go-to.
Her giggle made the hairs on my neck stand on end. “I love gin.” She held out her hand, ready to accept the shot I poured.
“We’ll see.”
I hoped to see her cringe or choke when she swallowed, but instead, she let out a satisfied sigh and caught a stray drop on her lip with her tongue. When I swallowed mine, I coughed, clearing my throat with a small cringe and giving my head a shake from side to side. It was like an after-shot routine.
Simone was smirking when I looked back at her. “You okay, champ?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. She looked satisfied. “You were so concerned about me, you weren’t prepared for the shot yourself.”
Sky laughed and pointed at Auston and me. “Okay, I like her.”
Auston laughed, clapping his hand against my back, and I glared at them both before snapping my attention back to Simone. She crossed her legs, her smirk turning into a cocky grin. “I was plenty prepared, thank you.”
“It’s okay, really. I know not everyone can handle their liquor as well as they say they can.” When she winked, my stomach churned, and I clenched my hands at my sides.
“I can handle my liquor just fine,” I sneered.
She shrugged and winked. “We’ll see.”
I groaned when my friends all laughed. It was going to be one of those nights—the nights where I couldn’t drink enough to get past my annoyance, likely ending with my head buried under the pillow to stop the world from spinning while my frustration continued to grow instead. Shaking my head, I took another swig straight from the bottle and leaned back against the chair behind me. Auston reached forward, snatching the bottle from my hand and setting it on the table beside him.
“Okay, before Logan drinks the rest of the bottle by himself, let’s play a game.” It was just like Auston to suggest a game; he always did. The guy liked to play games more than anyone I knew, and he didn’t wait for a response before he got up and grabbed a deck of cards. “Have you played Presidents and Assholes before?”
“I’m the reigning president back home,” Simone said with a laugh.
It was a group favorite. We all enjoyed the quick-paced game, watching the table for the numbers and patterns on the card and playing cards from your hand before someone could skip you. The game often ended with a lot of yelling, usually demanding that somebody cheated or dealt the cards intentionally in someone’s favor.
“Don’t get used to it.” She wasn’t going to be the reigning president here. That was my role.
Auston dealt the cards, and we played. The game only lasted a couple of minutes while cards were layered on the table in singles, pairs, and triples. We shouted over each other, and the noise competed with the sound of our hands slapping against the table. With a shriek, Simone slammed her last card on the table before I was able to play mine.
