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I can’t believe that some people actually find romance in a place like this. There’s no sultry dim lighting. It’s just dark in here. And no elegant cocktails are being sipped from stemmed glasses. It’s mostly just a bunch of dudes chugging beer.
My eyes wander around the crowded bar. There are plenty of men in here, all right, but I don’t think any of them are my type. There are the stereotypical frat boys playing darts in the corner, laughing too loudly, and spilling their drinks. Then there are the pretty boys, dressed in collared shirts and boat shoes, downing shots next to the bar.
These are all boys, not real men. They’ve hardly grown up at all and are definitely not the type to throw you down on the bed and get a little rough with you. Their hands are probably as soft as mine are, not calloused and rough like the hands of a man who actually does some genuine work. Like those bikers that I can’t stop thinking about. I feel myself flush, even though I’m all alone. I’ve got to get them off of my mind. Those men are so dangerous it’s like playing with matches around a gasoline spill.
Just in time, Bianca returns with two fruity-looking drinks in red plastic cups. She places one in front of each of us on the tall table. While Bianca settles onto her barstool, I eye the beverage suspiciously.
“What is it?”
“It’s a fruit punch,” Bianca replies, giving me a sideways glance. “Just be grateful it isn’t beer. You’re going to have to try it, eventually.”
I pick up the drink and offer her my most charming smile. “One thing at a time, B. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Bianca agrees, her annoyance making way for a beaming grin. “And that is a miracle,” She adds, lifting her cup. “Cheers!”
“Cheers!” My voice echoes.
The plastic cups make little noise when we clink them together, but Bianca smiles triumphantly as we bring the rim to our lips. The liquid is so sweet that I wonder if it contains anything other than fruit juices and sugar.
“There’s liquor in here?” I question, lifting one eyebrow.
“Yes,” Bianca chuckles. “But you can’t even taste it, so that makes this drink dangerous. Go slow.”
I nod, but my lips remain pursed around my straw. I’ve heard that this stuff is liquid courage and I need some right now.
Bianca bats her long, dark eyelashes and glances coyly around the bar. She flips her long brown hair over her shoulder and it’s as if she’s performed a magic spell. I notice two guys shooting furtive glances in our direction. Bianca smiles smugly as they saunter over, hands tucked into their pockets.
“Hey, ladies,” One guy says. His curly brown hair is covered with a backward white baseball cap. “Care for some company?” Although he smiles, I don’t detect any kindness in his brown eyes. He reminds me of a guy from the high school football team. He still has the body of an athlete, but something tells me he also has the maturity of a high schooler.
“Sure,” Bianca replies, smiling angelically.
“I’m Chad,” The jock pulls out an empty barstool next to Bianca’s seat at the table. “That’s Ian,” Chad says, nodding toward his friend, who is helping himself to the empty stool next to me.
“Hey there,” Ian smiles, leaning in towards me. I can smell alcohol on his breath and too much cologne. Ian’s blonde hair is close-cropped and he’s dressed in a polo shirt and khakis. He eyes me up and down. “What’s your name?”
Bianca answers for both of us before my mouth can even open.
“I’m Bianca,” She purrs, fluttering her eyelashes. “And that’s Mary.”
I put on my best grin, but I really wish that Bianca had introduced me by my full name, Marigold. It’s fine if she calls me Mary since she’s done it for so long, but I don’t really care to be introduced that way. I’m already a twenty-two-year-old virgin so there’s no reason for me to share a name with the Virgin Mother, too.
The table quickly turns to topics of small talk like the weather, different vacations in various stages of planning, and Chad’s father’s new boat. I should be good at this kind of mindless chatter, after all of these years as the preacher’s daughter, but I’m just not. And I’m not interested in these men. Somehow, they’re even less appealing than Thaddeus.
I sip my drink absentmindedly as fresh cocktails appear on the table in front of Bianca and me. She thanks them enough for the both of us, all while leaning forward to allow better glimpses of her cleavage, and I switch to the fresh drink.
Bianca tosses her hair over her shoulder, commanding the guys’ attention. She flutters her thick dark lashes before she speaks.
“I want to hear more about your dad’s yacht,” Bianca says, before flashing a fake pout. Her lips are shiny and thick with gloss. “My dad doesn’t have one yet.”
“Here, let me show you,” Chad replies, puffing out his chest. He fishes his cell phone from his pocket and his fingers swipe the screen.
Bianca oohs and aahs appropriately, but my eyes glaze over when he shows me the photos. Then Bianca’s exchanging social media handles and I’m completely excused from the conversation.
Bianca’s an aspiring influencer and I don’t have a single account.
At least there’s a fresh cocktail on the table for me to drink.
I sip and sit, crossing and uncrossing my legs as I become uncomfortable on the high bar stool. Bianca is putting on her best moves and she’s a master of flirtation, but I’ve seen this showmany times. It always ends up with me being ditched for some guy.
