Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“Smooth,” I comment, not breathing, making him laugh. A piece of his hair falls onto his forehead, and my hand itches to reach out and push it back. “Really smooth.”
“I’ll be back,” he says, walking down to the other end of the bar. I take another sip of the whiskey. This time, it doesn’t burn as much, or maybe my throat is numb. I pick up my phone and see Zoey has texted me three times.
Zoey: Did you leave?
Zoey: Where are you?
Zoey: Have you been kidnapped?
I laugh as I type back.
Me: I’m at the bar having what I think is Jim or Jack.
I take another sip, and this time, it’s even better.
Zoey: Who? What?
Me: This is what he recommended to me to take my mind off whatever.
Zoey: Oh my God, he probably slipped something in it.
I snort before taking another sip.
Me: You need to stop listening to Uncle Matthew.
I’m looking at my phone but then see movement at the side. I look up to see him coming to stand in front of me. “Do you want some water with that?”
“So you know the rule also?” I ask him, and he tilts his head to the side. “One glass of booze, one glass of water.” He looks at me, unsure of what I’m saying. “It’s to offset the booze.”
“I have heard that before.” He smirks before bending down and opening something and putting a bottle of water in front of me.
“Are you from here?” I ask, trying to make small talk while I sip my whiskey.
“I am,” he confirms. “Are you?” He raises his eyebrows.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m just passing through.”
“Really?” He puts his hands on the bar. “I take it you are riding solo.”
“Yup,” I say, expecting to be sad about it, but ever since two days ago, whenever I think of Daniel and this fucking situation, I get pissed. Fuck him for doing this to me. “I’m riding solo.” I finish the whiskey, and the heat from the alcohol is making it a bit too hot, so I shrug off my jacket. “I’ll take another one, Mr. Bartender,” I tell him, holding up the empty glass.
“Gabriel,” he supplies his name to me, grabbing my glass and walking over to pour me another one.
“Gabriel,” I whisper his name before he comes back, putting it down in front of me. “Thank you, Gabriel,” I say his name out loud. It feels like I’ve been saying his name for years instead of just now.
“You are most welcome…” His voice trails off, and I throw my head back and laugh.
“Zara.” I say my name.
“You are most welcome, Zara,” he says, turning back and walking to the end of the bar to take an order. I take my time with the second glass, drinking it slower. My mind is doing the stupid thing where it replays my life for the past three years, highlighting all the signs I should have seen, and probably did see, but was too scared to do anything about.
“Can I have another?” I ask him when he walks past me to grab something. I don’t know why I’m hoping he’ll stay and talk to me, but instead he just nods and moves on, placing the drink on the coaster in front of me. I spin the glass in front of me, taking little sips each time, now wondering what the fuck I’m going to do with everything back home.
“How are you doing over here?” I look up to see Gabriel in front of me. “We are doing last call.”
I look around and see there is literally no one left in the bar area. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I should let you close up.” So much for flirting. Instead, I was drowning my sorrows at a bar in the middle of nowhere.
“How are you getting home?” he asks, and I look down and see that I finished two more glasses. I know full well that I’m not going to be able to drive fucking anywhere.
“I’m going to Uber.” I grab my phone and pull up the app.
His laughter booms out. “Uber?” he questions. “Here?”
“Well, I’m assuming it’s everywhere.” I look back down and see the notice that says no cars available in your area. Please sign up to get notifications if they become available. “Oh my God, literally no cars available.” I laugh.
“I can drive you home,” he offers.
“You don’t have to do that.” I push away from the bar, taking a step off the stool and swaying just a bit. “I can also walk.”
He looks at me, and again the only thing that comes to my head is, damn, he’s hot. “Do you know what my parents would do to me if I let you walk home alone in the dark?” he asks, and I just shake my head, grabbing my jacket in one hand.