Page 126 of Call You Mine
“I should’ve known,” I say with a laugh as I head over to the bar. I hear the conversation changing to drama with the band that Emerson fills the girls in on, Jack pretending not to listen, but we all know he is just as invested as the girls.
Ordering a beer for me, a soda for Ava, and a round of shots for those of us drinking from one of the bartenders, I look around the space. The lights are dim, and the place is only lit by the neon signs lining the walls. The bar top takes up most of the space with booths lining the outside and high-top tables throughout. It's gotten even more crowded since we got here.
I notice small bowls along the bar, pulling one closer to me to find matchboxes with the Lenny’s logo. I pocket one, knowing Ava probably already has one, but wanting to give her one anyway to add to her collection.
“Here you go, man,” the bartender says, placing the drinks I ordered on the bar in front of me, along with the four shots I ordered.
“Thanks,” I say, reaching into my back pocket to give him my card to start a tab.
Handing it to him, I feel someone bump into me, causing me to fall to my left, catching myself on one of the bar chairs.
“What the hell?” I say, trying to keep my patience, but that wasn’t just an accidental tap. It felt like someone was trying to push me over.
When I turn back around, I see some guy grabbing the shots I just paid for.
“Excuse me,” I say, giving the guy the benefit of the doubt. “Those are mine.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” the guy laughs, handing two of the shots to one of his buddies. “They’re ours now.”
I shake my head, wondering if I was just catapulted into a cheesy 80’s high school movie and cast as the target of the big, bad bully. The guy’s letterman jacket and receding hairline have me feeling secondhand embarrassment, but not enough to let this asshole get away with whatever power trip he’s on.
I look around to see if anyone else is seeing what I’m seeing, but the bartender is already helping another customer, and everyone else is carrying on with their conversations.
“Is this a fucking joke?” I let out a dry laugh, but the guy doesn’t even look at me, his body up against the bar with his head turned in the opposite direction.
“Hey,” I say a little louder, lightly swatting at his shoulder, and he finally turns to look at me. “This isn’t high school, big guy.”
The guy gives me a once-over, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. He’s a few inches shorter, but he’s got some pounds on me. He’s probably about my age and gives off that vibe that he goes around pushing people’s buttons for fun.
And I’m not in the mood.
“Give me my shots back,” I say, my voice even, still trying to be civil.
The guy smiles, and I immediately understand why women carry pepper spray wherever they go.
It’s because of men like this.
“Nah,” he says, bringing one of the shots to his mouth and gulping it down. I don’t know if he’s baiting me or trying to get me to do something, but it’s not worth it. I don’t have time for pricks that dothisfor fun.
It’s embarrassing.
“Whatever, man,” I say, shaking my head as I grab my beer and Ava’s soda from the bar and head back to our table.
“What, no shots?” Emerson complains when I come back over, sliding Ava’s drink in front of her.
I shake my head, exhaling through my nose. My body is buzzing, my fists clenched in my lap.
Ihateguys like that.
“What happened?” Ava asks, and I look up to see all eyes on me.
“Some guy pushed me and then grabbed the shots I ordered.”
Ava’s brows furrow, and I hear her voice turn lethal, even among the music and conversations in the crowded bar. “What?” she grits through her teeth.
I settle my hand on her thigh, finding myself calming down, my frustration with the situation melting into something else, something much more pleasant, at the way Ava gets so mad on my behalf.
“It’s fine, love. Don’t worry about it.”
