Page 3

Bryn

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

I tugged down on the not-forgiving-enough white crop top for the millionth time, but only after jerking my dark wash skinny jeans up higher. Only a two inch strip of my stomach was visible, but it felt like I was prancing around in a teeny weeny bikini. Typically, I balanced my ensembles. If I wore tight pants, I donned a looser top, and vice versa, and I never showed anything more than a little cleavage. But, in my almost-a-college-graduate high, I made the mistake of letting Tiff dress me. Why, oh why, did I do that?

Glancing back over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes.

“Shut up. You’re a total babe and you know it.”

“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say stuff like that.”

She stopped, spinning to glare at me.

“Since when have I ever kissed your ass? I may be jealous of it. Hell, I may even wanna fondle it, but never have I ever kissed it. Got it, sister?”

Biting my lower lip, I snickered.

“Fondle? Really? Who the heck says fondle anymore?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she smirked.

“Me. Cause I’m a trend setter, baby.”

She wriggled her hips and shoulders, shimmying sassily.

That single move had me relaxing into a laugh.

“I think that bleach you insist on using on your hair is getting to you.”

She fluffed her blunt cut, shoulder-length locks.

“I think I successfully distracted you.”

She winked.

Snatching my wrist, she dragged me through the crowd towards the bar. Standing on her tiptoes, she slapped the counter.

“Yo! Marky Mark.”

The bartender looked our way. The moment he saw Tiff, he smiled wide.

“What’s up, baby girl?”

He strolled our way, giving me a quick once-over.

“This your date for the night?”

Her blue eyes lit with mischief.

“She’s a babe, isn’t she?”

She jutted her chin in my general direction.

I forced myself not to fidget under his scrutiny, darn near biting a hole through my inner cheek during the process. It was hell being openly judged.

“You always did have a thing for curves.”

He chuckled lightly. It was his way of saying I wasn’t his type.

“Hell yeah. What the fuck do you hold onto when you’re banging a girl?”

She held tighter to my hand.

The guy was smart. He threw his palms up and took a step back.

“Sorry, T. You got your tastes and I got mine.”

Dropping his arms, he swooped back in.

“Now what’ll it be, baby girl?”

“Give Bryn a sex on the beach and I’ll take a bottle of Mills for now. If she comes back for more, put it on my tab.”

I opened my mouth to object, but she immediately silenced me with a glare.

“Don’t piss me off tonight. You do not want a cranky, drunk Tiff on your hands, B.”

With a nod, I conceded.

“I can barely deal with normal, sane you.”

She gently shoved at my shoulder. “Brat.”

The word held no malice.

A smile split my face.

“You love me.”

Pursing her lips, she considered me.

“Yeah. I do.”

Abruptly, she threw her arms around me, crushing her slight frame against me.

“Congratulations, B! You did it, girl. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Savoring the moment, I hugged her back. She would be the only person who acknowledged my achievement.

Suddenly, my chest tightened as emotions swirled fiercely within me, surging towards my surface. It was hard not having a family, not having a swarm of often-annoying people who loved you to lavish you with praise after years of hard work. I swallowed, blinking profusely as tears stung my eyes.

Tiffany whipped backwards, grabbing my upper arms as she took me in.

“Oh no. No you don’t. Not tonight, B.”

She shook her head negatively.

“We’ll have a sappy girls’ night tomorrow, complete with a cheesy romantic comedy, and you can cry all you want then, but tonight-”

She squeezed the fat covering my biceps.

“Tonight, we drink, we dance, we get wild and crazy, and maybe we even get lucky. But we don’t cry. No crying, B. Only celebrating. Okay?”

Her brows furrowed as she studied me closely.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded my head in agreement. My lips curled into a stilted grin.

“Celebrate. Right.”

Throwing her head back, she groaned dramatically.

“Come on, B. Loosen up. Shake those sexy hips of yours.”

I rolled my eyes.

“All you have to say is please.”

She scrunched her nose.

“That word isn’t in my vocabulary.”

Mark saved me from having to rebuttal that one.

“Here you go, baby girl. Have fun.”

“Thanks, babe.”

She puckered her lips in his direction, passed me my drink, and snatched up her beer before leading me to a high top. The moment we sat down, she fixed me with a stern stare.

“Don’t even think about getting comfortable. The moment you finish that drink, you’re dancing with me until we find you a hunk to take my place.”

I couldn’t contain my smile.

“Yes, mother,” I droned.

“Girl, you are lucky tonight is your night.”

She wanted to be upset with me, but her words were spineless.

Closing my lips around the short black straw, I took a sip of my colorful drink. It’d been a while since I’d had an alcoholic beverage. Thankfully, this one was smooth, more sour mix than alcohol, or so it seemed.

We both sat back, taking leisurely swigs of our drinks as we looked around the scuffed up country bar. Most of the patrons were people I recognized, which was somewhat disconcerting considering all of the people I knew from town weren’t interested in extra curvy me.

Tiff nudged my side, never taking her eyes off the crowd.

“See anything you like?”

There were plenty of decent, attractive men. While most were a bit rough around the edges, I was always able to find some sort of appeal about them. The problem was none of them found the same in me.

“Not really.”

I rolled my lips. “You?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Egh. Jenny is my last resort. She claims to be a prude, but get her loopy enough and the truth comes out. The girl is dirtier than horse shit.”

My brows shot upwards as I honed in on the woman. Jenny worked at the local gas station as a cashier, preaching to every customer who would listen. Every time the church doors were open, you could bet Jenny was there. Which made this bit of information all the juicier.

“Seriously?”

Taking another sip of her beer, Tiffany faced me.

“I said she was my last resort.”

“I’d rather you switch teams for the night. Those church ladies are not easily deterred. If they think you took advantage of one of their own, you know that will be at least a month of duck and dodge for both of us. So, please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t do it.”

I shook my head negatively, emphasizing my point.

She frowned.

“You take the fun out of everything.”

“Hey!”

I narrowed my gape playfully.

“I resent that.”

“Okay. So not everything,”

she conceded.

“Ugh. But a girl has needs, B.”

Now she was whining.

“And batteries will never replace the real thing.”

I snickered.

“Poor baby.”

She crossed her arms over her flat chest.

“Damn right. It’s been three weeks.”

She pouted her bottom lip.

All humor fell away as I stared incredulously at her.

“Seriously? You’re complaining about three weeks? Try five years. I haven’t been with anyone since Darren.”

Her lips parted around a gasp.

“Oh you poor, poor thing. Oh, honey.”

She wrapped an arm around me from the side, resting her head on my shoulder.

“I knew it’d been a while, but five years? Fuck.”

Suddenly, she popped up.

“That settles it, B. Screw celebrating. Tonight, we’re gettin’ you laid.”

Hopping down from the stool, she gripped my forearm and gave it a firm tug.

“Let’s go. You’ve got to show them what they’re missing.”

“Oh, God.”

I gulped, fear snaking through me. Thank God I’m wearing ballet flats. It’d been years since I’d been out dancing, but I hadn’t forgotten the horrifying fact that I couldn’t dance to save my life. My only saving grace was that Tiffany was good at shaking what little she had.

Actually, that wasn’t good. That meant I would look even more inept next to her. Crap.