Текст книги "That Wedding"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

I'm at work, and I'm feeling uninspired in the new year. We had a really fun Jersey Shore themed New Year's Eve couple's shower. Everyone took it as an excuse to dress slutty, drink too much, and fist pump. I'm praying the horrible orange spray on tans everyone got will be worn off by the wedding!

In Joey's brilliance, he decided rather than make everyone buy us a "stupid" shower gift, they should bring us something practical.

And what's more practical than alcohol?

Now we have a fully stocked bar, and numerous people who have invited themselves to come "break in" our new house. Phillip acted just like a bride usually does at her showers. He was oohing and aahing over every bottle of alcohol. He almost got tears in his eyes when Blake and Logan presented him with an "amazing" and expensive bottle of tequila.

I didn't really drink much at the party. I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I used to be able to party and have fun.

I think it might have something to do with my quickly approaching wedding. I also think it might have something to do with the fact that one thought keeps going through my mind. Over and over.

No matter how right things feel with Phillip, God is never wrong.

I can't seem to shake the feeling of bursting into flames. Every time I close my eyes, I can feel the fire engulfing my body. I know God was burning me for saying Phillip and I are perfect for each other.

Why would he do that?

And even worse, Phillip and I have another counseling session tonight. Our schedule got mixed up because of the holidays, and we haven't been there for three weeks. Part of me wishes I could talk about it, but I don't dare. Pastor would probably have me committed, and Phillip would probably think I'm nuts and decide not to marry me.

I look down at the crap I've been drawing, wad the paper into a ball, and toss it into the trash.

Maybe I just need to get out of here. Maybe I need to be in a different environment to feel inspired.

I tell Phillip I'm gonna go the Sheldon Museum in Lincoln. He knows that's a place I often go when I need inspiration. I'm able to forget about my project and immerse myself in other people's creations. Usually when I do that, stop thinking so hard, the answers seem to come.

But as I'm driving, I'm thinking I'm maybe looking for inspiration that's more divine.

I think about who of my friends is the most religious.

No, that's not right.

Who of my friends is the most openminded religiously? And more importantly, who will not laugh in my face when I say God may have set me on fire?

That'd have to be Nick. So I text him.

Me:  What's up?

Nickaloser:  Just finished unpacking from the bowl game. Thinking about getting drunk.

Me:  What happened to the whole

my body is a temple

and all that shit?

Nickaloser:  Kickers aren't really football players, remember? And now that the season is over, I can have some fun. And I fully intend to.

Me:  You know I was just teasing about that.

Nickaloser:  Yeah, I know. So what's up?

Me:  I'm on my way to Lincoln. Wanna hang?

Nickaloser:  Hell yeah!! Is Mac with you?

Me:  He's not. I'm going to the museum. Come with me?

Nickaloser:  That doesn't sound fun.

Me:  Please!! I need to talk about some stuff, and you're my most openminded friend.

Nickaloser:  I find I'm at my most openminded after a few shots. Meet me at the bar.

Me:  Fine. Keggers? Are you going alone?

Nickaloser:  No. I'm not a loser.

Me:  You're in my phone as Nickaloser :)

Nickaloser:  True. But I'm not a loner. Moose and Chaz are meeting me.

Me:  Are they religious?

Nickaloser:  Are you possessed? Do you need an exorcism?

Me:  I don't think so.

Nickaloser:  Then they will be fine. You freaking about Phillip?

Me:  Uh.....

Nickaloser:  Fine. Museum, first. Bar, second.

Me:  Thank you!!!! 20 minutes?

Nickaloser:  Sure.

I walk up to the museum and see Nick standing outside waiting for me. I adore Nick and even though I love to tease him, he's no loser. He's adorable. Actually, don't laugh, but when he kicks off the football, I don't know, but the way he sorta skips and then like, boom, kicks the ball, is extremely sexy.

He and I had a very short-lived romance, well, maybe more of a booze-filled romance. It lasted all of about two weeks. I never slept with him, really we didn't do much more than kiss. The one night I thought things might go further, he threw up on my shoes as we were staggering back to his apartment. I spent the night with him, cleaning up his puke, and constantly cursing myself for goading him into those last two shots.

He never asked me out again, but we became good friends. I guess when you clean up someone's puke, it sort of bonds you, but it also makes me wonder.

I greet Nick with a hug and blurt out, "Why didn't we work out romantically? Is it because I got you drunk?"

He laughs. "No, that woulda been a good reason to keep you." He moves his head back and forth, like he's thinking how to say what he's about to say. "There's a couple reasons, I guess."

"And they were?"

"I wasn't going to listen to Danny's warnings cuz you were fun, but then Danny told me I didn't stand a chance because you liked Phillip."

"Danny was dumb. I was into you," I say as I pay our admission into the museum.

We stroll through the gallery and look at the paintings.

"When it was just us, sure, but when Phillip was around, seriously, it was obvious who you were into."

"No way."

"You're delusional, still. And no offense, but I just don't see how a bunch of colors swirled around equals art."

"Give me an example of how I was into Phillip when we were all sitting at the bar, and I was running my hand up your leg. And it's contemporary. It's supposed to evoke a feeling not look like something."

"Yeah, that turned me on. Like you were this bad girl, who wanted me, and your boyfriend was sitting right there, clueless." He laughs. "And the art is making me feel like I need a drink."

"My boyfriend?? That's dumb. Phillip and I were JUST friends!!"

"Jay, you freaking light up like a Christmas tree when you're around Phillip. The way you two look at each other. The connection you have with your eyes, seriously, I felt like a peeping Tom watching someone having sex. It's intimate. Why do you think everyone thought you were having sex? Because you acted like you were. He'd lower his voice when he talked to you, and you hung on every word he said. At first, I thought he just crushed on you, but the more we all hung out, it was pretty obvious who had your heart. Danny was right. I couldn't win. Plus, I was messing around with this hot girl from my sports medicine class, so I was cool with it."

I stop and look at him. "You were two-timing me? I'm appalled!"

He laughs at me, shrugs his shoulders, like it's no big deal. "Jay, we didn't do anything. How could I have been two-timing you?" We stop to look at a bright modern painting, and he changes the subject. "So what are you freaking out about? And why the museum?"

"I always come to the museum for inspiration, and I do think contemporary art is the way to go in the new building. But honestly, I probably shoulda gone to a church."

"You need religious inspiration?"

"Nick, has God ever spoken to you?"

He looks at me kinda funny, so I give him my pathetic look.

"Um, uh, no. Well, I don't know. Maybe once, but I didn't know if it was Him or like my own brain."

"That's exactly what I've been wondering!! Tell me!"

"In high school, besides kicking, I played wide receiver. I got tackled when I was up in the air. Helmet to helmet, knocked me silly. I fell hard to the ground, had a concussion, and for a few scary minutes, I couldn't feel my body. I thought I was paralyzed. They wrapped me up on one of those back boards and carted me off the field. My mind flashed, I can't move. I'm paralyzed. Then quickly another voice, that wasn't my own, flashed in my head. It said, You're going to be fine. And then I like knew I was. At the time, I thought it was God's voice, but who knows. So did God talk to you?"

"I think he did in a dream. He turned me into a burning bush, set me on fire when I told my friend that Phillip was the one for me. And in my mind, it was like He felt that was blasphemy. And I've been having a lot of dreams that are like tragic. At first, I thought, you know, I'm freaking, but I don't freak over guys. I really never have."

"You never used to, but Phillip is different. You're different with him. Probably because for the first time in your life, you have skin in the game. You care about him. You're in love him. You want it to work. Plus, you're planning a wedding, and you're moving. Your stress is just coming out in your dreams."

"I can see that with the other dreams I've had, but not this one. I really don't know if I should marry Phillip now. I'm almost positive God was trying to tell me not to, or he was threatening me or something."

Nick bursts out laughing hysterically and extremely inappropriately for a museum. "You're funny. You know that, right?"

"Stop laughing. I'm telling you this because you're my most openminded friend, and I thought you wouldn't laugh at me."

He regains temporary control, wipes tears from his stupid eyes, looks at me, and then starts laughing again.

I walk away, pretending to be intrigued by a Pollock painting.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out while trying to control his giggling.

"Are you high!? What's with the giggling?"

He straightens out his face and says seriously, "Keggers, it is. I can't have this conversation here."

We leave the museum with very little architectural inspiration and zero divine intervention.

Maybe the bar is a good option.

We walk in Keggers, and there behind the bar is my favorite hot and former fairly regular hookup, Bradley. He's drying a glass with a white rag and has a phone cradled on his shoulder. He looks irritated when Nick and I walk up to order drinks.

But when he sees me, his green eyes sparkle. "Jadyn, baby, you looking for drinks or a little fun?"

Nick holds out my engagement ring and says with a tone that's way too serious for a bar, "Definitely just drinks."

Buzz kill.

Bradley says, "Phillip?"

And I was like, "How'd you know?"

"Well, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know who you've always had the hots for," he says as he pours three tequila shots.

"Bradley, in this bar, I always had the hots for you," I flirt.

Sorry, I can't help it.

"You wanted to hookup with me, yes. But you've always had the hots for Phillip.

"Of all the boys I've kissed in this bar over the years, you tell me I had the hots for the one boy I never kissed?"

Bradley ignores my question and raises his shot glass. Nick and I follow suit. He says, "Here's to hookups."

"Here, here," I say.

He pours us each another shot. "And here's to finding true love. Congrats, Jadyn."

"Here, here," Nick says.

Bradley leans across the bar toward me and lowers his voice. "Although, I'm still extremely available if you came here for a hookup."

Nick gets a disgusted look on his face. "We're going to our booth. Bring us a pitcher, okay?" Then he drags me away.

"God, you're a flirt, and what's all the Jadyn babyyy bullshit?"

"I don't know. He just always called me baby. It was cute, but I wasn't flirting with him. I said one sentence, and it was about Phillip."

"You said here, here to hookups. I'd call that flirting, considering you've hooked up with the guy on numerous occasions."

"What, all of a sudden you're anti-hookup? I'll be sure to let all the girls who talk to you tonight know that."

"Hell, that's not a bad idea. They'll think I'm good guy, and that I'm not looking for a hookup. So then when we do hookup, they'll think it's cuz they wanted to. It's like reverse psychology. You just might be brilliant. So, do you wanna go back and flirt with him? If you hooked up with him, I probably wouldn't tell Phillip."

"You're such a liar. You would so tell Phillip, but it doesn't matter. I don't wanna flirt with or hookup with him! I'm engaged to be married! AND I have enough to worry about. Plus, I could never cheat on Phillip."

"You cheat on other guys?"

"Um, not on purpose."

"I'll take that as a yes. Accidental cheating. Ha! This is why I love you. You make me laugh."

Just as I say, "So can we please get back to the burning bush?" Moose slides in the booth and says, "Ooohhh, I heard you had an STD, but I thought it was just a rumor. Does it really burn?"

Oh. my. gosh.

Nick starts laughing hysterically again.

Seriously, can no one have a serious conversation anymore?

I should have known before I even opened my mouth that you can't have a serious conversation with a guy named Moose, but I keep trying anyway. I mean I drove all this way.

"Uh, no, I don't. We're talking about the religious burning bush."

But he's a boy. And apparently his mind is not on the religious side of the bush right now.

Bradley brings us a pitcher and three glasses just as Moose says, "I love hot bushes."

Which causes Bradley to sit down.

Why, oh why, isn't the bar busy?

"My favorite subject," Bradley says. "Are we talking about Jadyn's? Cuz I can speak from experience on that one."

"Do tell," Moose says.

And I'm not going to say what he said. If I told this story, all our ears would be bleeding.

Mine might be right now because I can't seem to totally tune out Bradley's discussion of my uh, well, oh, never mind.

My ears just perked up though because he's now telling Moose, Nick, and Chaz, who just slid into the booth, what it was like to have wild alcohol-fueled sex with me. He's telling them about the time I fell up his stairs. They all laugh about that.

People fall down stairs. They don't fall up them.

But I'm getting nervous because I know what's coming next in this story.

I try to get him off track by saying, "Chaz fell down the dorm stairs one time. It was really funny."

They ignore me.

Bradley says, "She was kinda drunk when we got to my apartment. I was dragging her up the stairs with me, but she was giggling and kept kissing and grabbing me. I just wanted to get her to my room before she woke up my roommates. We were about halfway to the top when she fell up the stairs. She giggled then pulled me down on top of her. It was so hot."

I tune out the rest. I know the rest. I possibly coaxed him into, um, doing it, uh, right there on the stairs.

This is all allegedly, I might add.

He might be making it up.

Because clearly I was drunk.

At least that's what I'm gonna tell the boys. I say, "I don't remember that. Obviously, I was drunk, or maybe you're thinking of another girl."

Bradley seems hurt by this and slunks back over to the bar.

A few minutes later, I feel guilty and decide to go for a pretend pee.

As I walk by the bar on the way back from the bathroom, I stop and ask Bradley for a round of shots.

While he's pouring them, I confess. "Sorry about that. I do very vividly remember the stairs, and I wasn't drunk. I just really wanted you, but you telling that story was pretty embarrassing. You know, talking about it in such graphic detail."

"So you do remember, huh?" He gives me a smoldering look.

"It was one of the hottest experiences of my life," I say truthfully.

And it was.

Oh my gosh, was it.

His face lights up in a grin. "Me too. You sure you're not up for a replay of that, like tonight?"

"Bradley, I'd never try a replay of that."

"Why?"

"It was perfect as it was."

"Mmm. True. I was so afraid my roommates were gonna wake up."

"I don't think I cared."

"Yeah, that was the best part. We had fun, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And now you're getting married. Where is Mr. Wonderful anyway?"

"At work."

"And why are you at the bar with a bunch of boys?"

I look back at the boys loudly discussing their sex lives and sigh. "Well, I went to the museum. Really, I've been trying to talk to Nick about the burning bush, but it's not working because they keep turning it all sexual."

"So are we talking the religious burning bush? Like Moses saw?"

"Yeah."

"You know I'm a philosophy major, right? Next semester, I'll finish up my doctorate."

"Really? And here I thought you were just the hot bartender." Who knew he had brains too? I sorta never got past the hot physical parts.

"So talk."

And I do.

It just all comes out. How cliche. Spilling my guts to the bartender.

"So how do you know if God is speaking to you, versus your own subconscious telling you something, versus a premonition, versus a warning, versus a hunch, versus an omen, or versus your mind just freaking out?"

"Do you want my professional opinion?"

"Please."

"Right off the bat, I'd say it sounds like you've been doing way too much thinking."

"Yeah, probably." I let out a big sigh.

"Tell me what happened."

So I tell him about the dream.

"Jadyn?"

"Yeah."

"You driving home tonight?"

"I don't know. Yeah, maybe. Well, probably. I mean, I hadn't really thought about it yet."

"I know you pretty well and can see where this is heading. So you're not now. You can crash with me if you need to."

I raise an eyebrow at him. He says, "Okay, hang on."

He walks over to the loser table, says a few words to Nick, and comes back.

"You're staying with Nick. He swears he won't do what I would do to you if I took you home."

And sorry, but my mind can't help but think about the things that he'd do to me.

Oh boy.

He grabs three bottles and simultaneously pours them into a shot glass. Then he flips the bottles dramatically and hands me the shot.

"That was cool," I say.

"Drink, then listen."

So I drink. "Mmmm. That's good."

"Thanks, it's my own creation. I still need to figure out a catchy name for it."

"Okay, so back to my problem."

"Baby, you're freaking out about getting married. About having to love the same guy, sleep with the same guy, for the rest of your life. God is not speaking to you. God is not going to set you on fire. From what I can tell, you're lucky enough to have found your true soulmate. You should be celebrating this, not second guessing yourself. Plus, you found true love with your best friend. That's even cooler. Have you ever heard of Seneca, the Roman philosopher?"

"I don't think so."

"He said, You might say that love is friendship gone mad. You just had a bad dream. Don't try to see something divine in it."

My phone buzzes. I look down at it.

Phillipbaby<3  How's the inspiration?

Me:  Very inspirational.

Phillipbaby<3  Nick told me you're at Keggers doing shots with Bradley. That you've had quite a few shots already.

Me:  Tattletale. Did he also tell you Bradley is getting his doctorate in philosophy?

Phillipbaby<3  Uh, no.

Me:  Like I said. It's inspirational. Or maybe philosophicalish.

Phillipbaby<3  I don't think that's a word. So you're getting drunk?

Me:  Uh. Not yet, no. I don't think so.

Phillipbaby<3  Nick says Bradley says you're staying with either him or Nick tonight.

Me:  He thinks I'm thinking about getting drunk. The inner workings of my mind are tricky, so it's hard to predict.

Phillipbaby<3  Do you want to go home with Bradley?

Me:  No. I'm pretty sure.

Phillipbaby<3  Pretty sure? Or FOR sure?

Me:  I really haven't thought about it yet, um, let me think...

Phillipbaby<3  Okay...

I don't get to respond to Phillip because I was messing around with the philosopher's hand, trying to steal a bowl of pretzels, and my phone sorta went flying out of my hand and into the bartender's sink full of soapy water.

Bradley quickly fishes it out of the sink.

Shit.

He takes the battery out, lays it on a bar towel, dries it off, runs in the back, and comes back with a ziplock baggie. He tells me to run across the street to the Chinese restaurant and have them put rice in it for me.

I do, and proudly come back with a bag of fried rice. I'm expertly eating it with chopsticks.

Kinda.

Bradley looks jealous, so I try to feed him some rice.

He shakes his head at me. "You're so blonde. My waitress called in sick, and her replacement can't be here for a few hours, so come stand behind the bar and look pretty. If someone comes in, just pour them a beer." He goes in back, grabs another baggie, and runs across the street.

I eat my rice, and since no one comes in, I pour myself a beer and am drinking it when two cute boys come sit up at the bar.

"Beer?" I ask, like the professional that I now am.

"Pitcher," Cutie One says. "Are you new?"

"No, I'm old. I've been a regular at this bar for years."

"Oh, we meant are you the new bartender?"

"No, I'm just eating rice and drinking."

I pour them a pitcher and have Cutie One come get it from behind the bar, along with some glasses cuz I'm kinda still eating. I finish my rice and am just doing a shot with the cuties when Bradley jogs back in.

"Oh, more rice for me?"

"Did you just do another shot? You need to stop drinking."

I shake my head. "Just trying to do my job."

Cutie Two says, "She's really good at her job." Then he grins lasciviously at me.

Cutie One says, "Yeah, but she really should have on something sexier."

Bradley is messing with my phone and the bag of rice. We all stop and watch. He puts my phone in the baggy full of uncooked rice and zips it up.

Cutie One says, "Dude, that doesn't work."

But Cutie Two disagrees, "Yeah, it does. Well, it worked for me. What happened to your phone?"

Bradley replies, "It's her phone, and I'm pretty sure it could tell the way the night is headed and tried to commit suicide." He takes the rice baggie over to the booth, drops it in my purse, and walks back behind the bar.

"Hey, maybe I should work tonight. Help you out."

Bradley looks at me. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Oh, come on. I've always wanted to wear one of the server's outfits. They're so cute! It'll be just like Halloween."

"You remember last time you spent Halloween here?"

"Uh, mostly."

"Hmmm. I clearly remember your naughty little nurse's outfit and how good it looked on my bedroom floor."

Oh my.

The cuties are rapt with attention.

I change the subject. "So, is that a yes? Can I go change?"

He laughs. "Sure, why the hell not. Ought to provide us with some entertainment."

I go in back and change into the server's outfit. Little black spandex shorts and a black and white referee shirt that's cut quite low in front and doesn't even attempt to cover my stomach. I add the tall white socks. Luckily, I wore black pumps with my dress today. I walk out and all three of them whistle. I take a tray off the bar and go wait on my friends.

"Another pitcher, boys?" I ask.

I'm even expertly holding the empty tray on one hand above my head.

They grin at my outfit.

"You should work here part-time. We'd get free beer," Moose tells me.

"I gotta get this on camera," Nick says. "Say, sexy."

They send the picture to Phillip. I'm sure he'll get a kick out of it. And my new career path.

Was I supposed to be texting him back about something?

Shoot, I forget. Oh, well.

I take their empty pitchers and put them on top of my tray, lift it above my head on one hand, and saunter back over to the bar. I refill the pitchers from the tap and put them back on the tray.

I'm a little shocked that I've had a few shots and am still functioning at peak performance levels.

I did have a big lunch though and fried rice must really be good at soaking up alcohol.

As I walk by Cutie One, heading over to deliver the beer, he decides it would be fun to smack my ass.

Which well, I may not have been prepared for because it causes me to become slightly unbalanced, and I'm afraid the full pitchers become slightly unbalanced too. And said pitchers may currently be crashing down, cascading beer on two cuties, who probably don't deserve it, but who are being soaked in beer as we speak.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," I tell the drenched cuties as the tray falls out of my hand and clatters to the floor.

Bradley rushes around with towels and tries to dry off the cuties. He snarls at me about my lack of coordination.

"He slapped my ass!" I say, defending myself.

Bradley gets his serious half bouncer-half bartender look. "That true?"

"Uh," the boy says sheepishly.

"You deserved it then," he says as he throws the towels at them. He fills up a couple new pitchers and carries them over to my friends.

As he walks past me, he goes, "I can't blame the boy for smacking your ass. You look extremely hot." He stares into my eyes for a beat. "Tell you what, you take the orders, I'll carry the drinks."

"I like working here," I tell him when he's back behind the bar.

Whew. I'm starting to feel a little spinnyish.

Bradley hands me a tall drink over ice. "What's this?"

"Vodka and water."

I taste it. "It tastes like straight water."

"That's because it's made in Iceland. Very high quality. Very expensive, top shelf stuff."

"Oh." I take another drink. "It's good."

A group comes in and sits at the bar tops in front of the pool tables. They're already racking up a couple games when I go take their order. But by the time I get back to the bar, I can't remember it, so I say, "Two pitchers."

Bradley takes them over.

He comes back and says, "They didn't want pitchers."

"Just tell them it's happy hour, they're cheap, and I was ordering in their best interests. I want more Chinese. Bradley, do you want some?"

Cutie One says, "I want some."

"Dude," the other one says, "I want some from you too."

"But I don't have any more."

Bradley says, "I think they want, um, some of you."

"Oh, really? Why?"

"Cuz your hot and probably drunk enough to say yes."

"I'm not drunk. And I'm ENGAGED! Hey, this vodka is really good. I'm gonna go see if the pool guys want shots. I'm good at up-selling, and I changed my mind, Bradley. Order us some pizza from Val's."

"You're not supposed to bring food in here."

"I had hot drunken sex with you on the stairs, and you just told my friends ALL about it. I think I can do whatever I want."

"True," he grins, and the cuties are like, "Uh...dude, details."

While he tells the boys details, I suggest Jaeger shots to my new pool playing friends. I may have said they were on the house, I forget. Bradley gives me a tray of them, and since no one touches my butt, they arrive in one piece. I work my way back over to Nick, Moose, and Chaz.

"I ordered us pizza," I tell them.

"They don't serve food here," Moose informs me.

"Oh, well that's just details," I say back.

Nick gets serious. "Okay, let's talk about the burning bush."

But they have each had pretty much a pitcher apiece, plus shots, and they can't be serious.

So the talk turns to Moose's recent sexual experience.

"Nicky!" I squeal. "Stop talking about boy parts."

"You only call me Nicky when you're trying to convince me to do something you know I don't wanna do. The rest of the time, I'm Nickaloser."

"Aww, you know I don't really think you're a loser. But if it bothers you, I'll make up a new nickname for you, right now. Tonight. You're so lucky! Okay, let's see. Nicky, pricky, picky, slicky, dickey, mickey, hickey, kicky. Wow! A lot of good words rhyme with Nicky. Oh, I've got it!!!! Licky, licky, make a hickey, have a quickie with Nicky's dic....."

"Jadyn!"

"What?"

"Seriously, you can't say that."

"I can't say dickey? A dickey is just a little fake shirt you wear under another shirt. Don't be so sensitive."

"Fine. It's a great nickname, but it's probably too long."

"It's long, is it?"

"Jay!"

"What? You're the one that said it was long."

"I meant the name, not my, uh, part."

I consider that for a moment. "Yeah, you might be right. I don't think that would fit in my phone anyway."

"You're drunk. You get silly when you're drunk, and then you'll wanna start danc..."

"OMG!!!!! Nicky!!! I love this song!!!"

I start dancing a bit. I can't help it.

I love this song!

Oh, maybe I said that already. Sorry.

"Nicky, come dance with me."

"Shit, told ya. And I don't wanna dance."

I do a little shimmy in front of him. "I guess I could go ask Bradley."

"I'm such a pushover." He sighs, acts like he's doing me a big favor, gets out of the booth, and dances with me.

I twirl around, fist pump, do a little harmless grinding on Nicky.

"You're so lucky that I'm a good guy," Nick says.

"Why's that?"

"You're drunk."

"Not any drunker than you are. You're a good dancer when you're drunk."

Nick grabs me and pulls me in closer. "And you're very naughty when you're drunk. Bradley is totally watching you."

"Really?" I kinda gush. I turn around and look at Bradley, and he's definitely watching me, but I'm not sure why.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"The song is over."

And I realize it is. New song. Not so good to dance to.

"Thanks for dancing with me, Nicky. Oh, hey, I gotta go. Bradley is waving at me."

I dance my way behind the bar. "So, Bradley, is there anything I can get you?"

Yes, I'm kinda flirting with him.

But I think it's harmless.

Just for fun flirting.

"Yeah," he says. "You can get naked."

Uh, well maybe not completely harmless.

Thankfully, a group of girls walk in. I leave Bradley to go wait on them, yummy vodka in hand. I suggest vodka to them, but they say they just want the bartender. Apparently, they've been trying to hook up with him, to no avail. And here I thought Bradley hooked up with everyone.

I go back to the bar. "Oh, Bradley, sweetie, they only want YOU to wait on them. Then I whisper, "I thought you hooked up with everyone."

"No, baby, just you. I don't have a problem with hooking up. I just don't with girls I meet on the job."

"So I was special?" I can't help but grin.

He looks at me struggling with the tray and my high heels. "Yeah, special ed."

The cuties laugh.

He works for tips though, so he goes and flirts with the girls and gives them false hopes. But the false hope will keep them here until closing time. That's a drill I know well. Although I guess in my case, he gave in and took me home with him. I feel so lucky. Like I won the bartender lottery or something.

He comes back, and I say, "You're pretty sexy when you get your flirt all on."

"Come here, I need to show you something." He drags me in the back room and pins me against the wall. "I'll be glad to show you sexy if that's what you want."

He pushes his body up against mine. It feels familiar and sexy.

It also feels all wrong.

Has Phillip ruined me?

Am I never going to be able to flirt with or get turned on by another guy again? What if he dumpssss me??!!!!!!