“What? Dick pic? What are you talking about?” she demands, and I can see that she is considering coming closer. However, my attempts at distracting the girls surrounding the guy are successful. As a crowd of girls swarm and head over to the bar in the corner where I claimed to have seen Captain America.
Hanging up my phone with a snap I turn to look at the man before me thoroughly impressed with my tactics to get his attention.
“Hey there,” he says with a smile, “so Captain America is in the building?
God I hope he isn’t gay. That will just ruin everything for Charlie. Maybe it will be for the best. I think she’s been drinking too much to have any kind of conversation that doesn't lead to regrettable one night stands.
“Well if that’s what I said.” I smile and shrug before stepping closer so he can hear me better. “So, I have a friend,” I say turning and pointing to Charlie in the corner. “She thinks you’re hot, but she asked me to come over and talk to you.”
“Why would she ask you to come over and talk to me?”
“That is an excellent question,'' I say, smiling at my friend who suddenly pretends like she can’t see me. Typical.
“Well she thinks you’re really hot, so she’s too scared to come talk to you, so could you just go over and say hi to her? Maybe exchange numbers if you think she’s cute. She’s super drunk right now, but I promise she’s a really nice person and super interesting. She’s also a 4.0 student, top in her class, and graduated valedictorian in high school.”
“She sounds like kind of a nerd,'' he says, narrowing his eyes at her.
I stare in disbelief at the slick-haired man with the extra thick frames and button-down shirt. “Do you think my friend looks like a nerd?'' I asked incredulously. “It’s funny I was saying she would be your type, seeing as already.” I gesture to his glasses.
He smirks down at me in a way that makes me want to pop him in the nose. What is it with men and thinking smirking is sexy? I don’t find it sexy at all, in fact, I find it damn right irritating particularly in this moment.
“How about this,” he says, leaning forward whispering. His breath suddenly hot on my ear and smelling sickeningly of Corona Light, my least favorite beer.
“You give me seven minutes in heaven in the ladies bathroom, and I’ll go over and say whatever you want me to say to your loser friend.” He slaps my ass hard sending me jerking forward on my heels and crashing into his chest spilling my pink drink all over both of us.
That does it. Now he has to die. Not even thinking, I move fast as I jerk my leg up, sending him crashing to the ground.
“You don’t deserve me or my friend,'' I snarl. “Honestly, I don’t think you deserve a single girl here. Not even those girls over there harassing some tall Greek god who looks surprisingly like Captain America.” Turning on my dangerously high heels, I march back over to the most beautiful girl here.
I can’t believe him, that was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever been forced to endure. I silently promise myself that I will never again walk up to a guy in a bar to talk to him for my drunk friends. That simply makes no sense and now I want to die, change my clothes, burn them, and shower all the same time. What a frustrating mix of emotions to happen all in one evening.
Freaking Kenton should have just stayed with me at home and had a relaxing evening inside. If that had happened, then I wouldn’t be in the stupid situation, I wouldn’t be out here with his drunk daughter, my best friend, and I would probably be having the best sex of my life right now. Oh it could’ve been.
Walking back over to my best friend she stares at me.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she asks. “What if someone calls the cops?”
“Oh don’t worry about that,” I say, “if anyone’s coming, there is going to be a need for sexual harassment.”
“Sexual-harassment!” she exclaims. “What the heck happened over there?”
“Oh right, I forget you are too drunk to have noticed,” I say, suddenly regretting my words as she pouts looking a little sad. “He was a jerk, and he doesn’t deserve you.” Rubbing her arm, I pull her away from the bar. “Come on. Let’s go to Starbucks and buy you a coffee. We need to sober you up before I drive you home.”
“What no,” she says. “I don’t want to go home yet. I’m procrastinating on my summer homework.” She’s pronouncing each word clearly to prove that she isn’t completely drunk. But I still don’t believe her.
“Yes. I think you can procrastinate on your homework while your head is in the toilet and you vomit up the aspirin I’m going to give you,” I say, opening up my clutch and handing her two red pills. “For the love of God please take these,” I beg. “if your dad finds out how hammered you are he is going to kill me.”
“Why would my dad find out?” she asks, reaching for the aspirin and taking the water from someone’s table, not bothering to see who it belongs to.
“Parents,” I stumble, “just have a way of finding these things out.”
“I guess,” she says with a shrug as we weave our way out of the club and into the parking lot.
"Why do you always go after guys like that?” I ask her, shaking my head as we get into my car.
“What are you talking about?” she asks.
“You know those guys. The ones you don’t actually care about you. They just wanna have sex with your best friend in the bathroom and then do you as a favor.”