Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
"What can I get you?" the bartender asks. She turns in my arms, and I don’t know if she stays there because she wants to or if it’s because I haven’t let her go. Either way, I’m going with it.
"I’ll take a pitcher of marg." She leans in. "And four whiskey sours."
"That’s a lot of alcohol," I say. She looks up at me, and I want to bend and kiss her lips, but I don’t want to kiss her for the first time and rush through it.
The bartender comes back and puts the pitcher on the counter, and I finally have to let her go. "Can I have a tray?" she leans in and asks him, and he nods his head. She arranges everything on the tray and picks it up with ease.
"You ever need a job, let me know," the bartender says and winks at her, and I just glare at him. I literally just had my arms around her.
"Follow me," she says. I want to take the tray from her, but she is already moving ahead of me, so I put my hand on her hip as we walk through the crowd of people. I can see the guys giving her a second glance, and I fucking hate it.
"Okay," she says, putting the tray on the table. "We have some margaritas." She takes the pitcher off. "And we have some whiskey."
"Who drinks whiskey?" Frankie asks, scrunching his nose up.
"Only fine Southern folks do," Harlow says. "So none for you, city boy." I can’t help but laugh at her as she sits down on a stool, and I stand next to her. She takes one of the whiskey glasses and brings it to her lips, taking it in one shot. "Okay, are we playing a game?" She looks around the table, and I can tell from her eyes that the liquor is getting to her.
"I want to play a game," Chris says, putting his hand up with his glass of beer. "Let’s play seven minutes in heaven."
The girls shake their heads and laugh. "Why don’t we play ABC animals," Harlow says, and we all look at her. "So I go first, and I choose an animal that starts with the letter A like armadillo and then the one who makes the worst sounding armadillo has to drink."
"What the fuck does an armadillo sound like?" Frankie says. "The only armadillo I’ve ever seen is Ross from Friends."
"I know what it sounds like." Rachel puts up her hand, and she proceeds to make the sound of a wounded cat, making everyone laugh.
"Almost," I finally say and make my own noise. The whole table laughs again, especially when it’s Frankie's turn.
He loses his turn when he shouts out, "I’m a holiday armadillo!" He doesn’t even wait to be announced the winner; he just drinks his glass of beer. By the end of the night, I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I have in the last hour and a half.
We’ve all lost at least one round. Some of us have lost more than we care to admit, and a couple of us have even argued our losses. "Okay, who is ready to head over to the house party that Chuck is throwing?” I look over at Harlow, who just looks at me, not sure what to say.
"I think I’m going to head home," she says while the girls look at her and moan.
"Fine, I’ll come with," Rachel says, and I hold up my hand.
"I’m going to go also, so I’ll make sure she gets home," I say, and Rachel just smiles as she and Lydia try to high-five each other but miss three times. I look over at Jake, who just nods at me, knowing he’ll have to make sure they get home okay.
I look at Harlow, who just nods as we turn to walk out of the bar. The cold air hits me right away, and I look at Harlow, who just smiles at me. "You don’t have to walk me," she says as she starts to walk toward her apartment.
"There is no way I would let you walk home by yourself," I finally say as we take our time walking down the sidewalk. "My father would haunt me."
"I can grab an Uber." She points behind her at the road. "You can go and join them."
"Harlow." I say her name as our feet move in sync, our hands grazing each other’s. She looks over at me. "This is exactly where I want to be." My pinky finger links with hers.
My eyes go to our hands as I try to calm my nerves. "So the blonde," she starts, and she smiles at me. "Is she someone you are seeing, or is she a friend?" I look at her, and I have no idea who she is talking about. "When we were walking into the bar, you were having a conversation with her."