Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Tequila is a bad idea, and you know it,” I said.
He shrugged. “Usually I’d agree, but tonight...”
I was already blushing. “Don’t even say it,” I said.
A moment later Sam came bursting through the front doors.
“Hey boss. Hey Evan,” Sam said, stepping behind the bar and setting down his backpack. Sam was wearing one of his signature tight-as-hell tank tops, this one with the phrase Man Candy emblazoned in pink letters on the front.
“You’re ten minutes late,” Red told Sam.
“But it’s a good thing you missed out on me making a fool of myself just now,” I said.
“Another bad date?” Sam asked. “I could have helped you with that.”
Sam flexed his pecs under the tank top, winking at me.
“Okay, just because you wear tight tank tops to get good tips doesn’t mean it would help me get laid,” I said.
“Did you rub the Big Rock Cock?” Sam asked.
“I don’t believe in the powers of the Big Rock Cock,” I said.
“Well, there’s your problem,” Sam said. “Go give it a rub. Your luck will change.”
The Big Rock Cock was a six-foot-tall pink marble statue that stood behind us in the middle of the room, between all the tables and booths. Red’s Tavern regulars had long ago decided that it looked like a penis and started touching it for good luck. The statue was donated by one of Red’s old artist friends, who probably intended it to look like a tall mushroom. But now it had taken on a mythology of its own.
I hated the Big Rock Cock. But everyone who came through the doors seemed to want to take a selfie next to it.
“This wasn’t just a bad date, though,” Red told me as Sam headed to the back office. “I own this place. I’ve seen more awkward flirting than a middle school dance floor. But you’re on another level tonight.”
I pushed my empty pint glass toward him in a not-so-subtle plea for more alcohol. He crossed over to the beer taps, pulling me a fresh glass of the Amber Sunset lager I’d been guzzling all evening.
Red had opened Red’s Tavern years and years ago. Everyone who came here knew he was a no-bullshit kind of guy. He was a sweetheart at his core, but you had to break past his bad-boy cowboy vibe first. Red wasn’t afraid to tell you when you were royally fucking everything up.
And he knew I was fucking everything up because I was obsessing over Mitch’s return to Amberfield.
I had been in love with Mitchell since high school, when he’d been the star quarterback yet still wanted a nerd like me as his best friend. Mitch had kissed me once on prom night, and the memory was seared into my brain. I still dreamed about his lips at least once a month.
It had always been completely hopeless, because he was straight and happily married to Jess, and he had a fourteen-year-old son.
At least, Mitch used to be married. He’d dropped a bomb on me in an email last month:
Hey.
I’ve got bad news and good news, Ev. Jess and I are split up. Looks so simple, all typed out. Hasn’t been so easy, actually. But we both know it’s for the best. I think Zach even knows, too, even though I’m scared shitless he’s going to get hurt.
Ready for that good news, though? I’m moving back. And I’m excited about it, fucker. Things don’t feel right when I’m not around you. I used to think I hated Amberfield, but you know what? I kind of can’t fuckin’ wait.
Mitch
I’d read the email over and over again every single day since then.
I kneaded the tension on the back of my neck.
“One more lager for you,” Red said, pushing the glass across the bar.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re going to be just fine tomorrow, Ev,” Red said. “He’s your best friend. You have no reason to be nervous.”
“I have every reason to be nervous,” I said. “But I appreciate your confidence in me.”
“When you’re nervous, sometimes it helps to picture the other person in their underwear,” Red said.
I snorted a laugh. “I’d get hard instantly. Nothing like greeting your straight best friend with a giant tent in your pants the first time he comes back to town.”
“Maybe he’d take it as a compliment.”
I shook my head. “You don’t know Mitch. He used to blush if I even said the word boner.”
“So he’s a prude?”
“Not really a prude, just… innocent. A big, beefy jock who only gets shy when sex comes up.”
“If he’s shy about sex, he definitely shouldn’t come to my bar,” Red said proudly.
“I’ll see if I can desensitize him. Fuck, I can’t believe he’s going to be living here again.”
Right before I’d gotten Mitch’s email, I had applied to a teaching job in Switzerland, of all places. I couldn’t picture myself living anywhere but here in Amberfield, but after years of wishing Mitch would come back, I had known I needed a big change. I had to move on.