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I took a sip from my beer, trying to think about what she was asking. The shirt. I’d said it was mine. I took another drink, trying to think of a way to say I owned the place without looking like a pompous asshole. Damn, I really was out of practice. “It’s my bar,” I said lamely.
She looked down at the shirt, at the Collie logo on the front pocket. When she looked up at me, she blurted, “Your bathrooms are gross.”
8
Birdie
Confession: I’m great at giving advice. Following it? Not so much.
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT.
He chuckled. “They are?”
“The ladies’ smells terrible. Vomit and urine everywhere.” Why couldn’t I stop talking?
He raised his eyebrows. “What? I mean, you can’t help the piss in the men’s, but the women’s?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how it happens, but it does.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t believe it.”
The bartender slid a mojito onto the wet bar top, and I took it. “Come on.” I got out of my chair. “I’ll show you.”
I could feel his presence behind me as we made our way toward the bathroom I’d just locked myself into. I took a sip, if only to calm my nerves, but then I moaned and said over my shoulder, “This is the best mojito ever.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replied with a chuckle.
We reached the door, and I turned to him. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Oh, I’m ready.” The heat in his voice made me wonder what else he was ready for.
I pushed open the door, and he followed me inside. A few girls standing around the sinks glanced at him before getting back to their conversation. I could tell they’d just met—they were being so nice to each other. True friends in the bar used the b-word way more often.
His nose curled up. “This is bad.”
“I told you,” I said, folding my arms across my chest.
“No, this is really bad.” He shook his head and took my hand. “We’ve got to leave.”
His touch sent heat up my arm, and I imagined him touching me elsewhere. Him being the rebound of every girl’s fantasy but my reality.
I followed him out of the restroom, and he stepped aside, breathing deeply.
I giggled. “Get some of that fresh bar air.”
He laughed. “Good point. Want to get out of here?”
I bit my lip, holding back a smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”
Instead of going out the front door, he led me to the back, reaching into his pocket for keys. Headlights flashed on a car that looked so expensive it could pay off the entirety of my student loan debts.
I stared at it, suddenly freaking out. He was rich. The kind of rich that could cover up my murder. And I’d taken a drink from him. What kind of adult was I? I didn’t even know his name!
Noticing I’d stopped following, he turned toward me. “Everything okay?”
“Um... not really.”
His dark brows drew together, and he stepped away from the car. “What’s wrong?”