A Boy I Used to Love(33)

"It looks great," I said.

Ana was on the move, approaching me.

I could have stood up and shooed her the hell out of there.

But I didn't.

She walked right up to me and opened her legs. She gently came forward, starting to straddle me. My hands tingled as I lifted them up to her chest.

"Be easy," she whispered.

"I don't do easy," I said.

She bit her lip and exhaled a long breath.

Ana came down a little, putting her breasts right to my face.

She'd become my lunch …  and it'd chase away that lonely feeling for a little while …





Lacey





PRESENT DAY





Karen put a light blue drink in front of me.

"I'm not drinking that," I said.

"One, you've already had too many to drive home," Karen said. "So, you're crashing on my couch. Two, this one isn't from me." 

"Then where is it from?"

Karen leaned forward. "Hot guy at the end of the bar."

"Hot guy … "

I glanced to my right and a man nodded at me.

I quickly looked forward at Karen. I grabbed the skinny stem of the fancy drink glass and eased it away.

"No, no, no," I said. "I don't do this kind of thing."

"Maybe you should," she said. "What's wrong with talking to someone? You barely have talked to me lately, Lacey. Something happened and you're not spilling."

"It's not that easy," I said.

"Then make it easy. Either drink until it comes out or go talk to that nice guy and see what happens."

"How do you know he's nice?" I asked. "Just because he sent me a drink? Maybe he's been watching me drink and just thinks I'll be a cheap and easy lay."

Karen raised an eyebrow. "Things like that prove you need to get laid."

She puckered her lips in a kiss, then pushed away from the bar. She went to tend to her other customers. I just sat there alone, staring at the free drink. I had planned on just visiting Karen but somehow I ended up having three drinks. So, yeah, maybe I was a little drunk. But I wasn't going to let my emotions get the best of me. Mr. Sexy Drink could buy me anything he wanted but that didn't mean I was going to (a) drink it and (b) go back to his place for whatever he wanted.

So, I just sat there, right up until Mr. Sexy Drink came over to me.

Figures.

He sat down next to me, then reached out and hooked his index finger around the neck of the glass and pulled it toward him.

"If you aren't drinking, then I'd better," he said. He took a sip from the straw and pulled away. "Sugary. Nine bucks for that? I don't even taste the booze."

"You're not supposed to," I said. "It creeps up on you. Then you end up sitting here like me."

"Well, you're not alone," he said. He held his hand out toward me. "I'm Mitch."

"Lacey," I said.

"Now that's a pretty name."

You can't use his lines. You can't say things River said to me. Ever.

Face it, anything this guy said or did, he would be compared to a man he'd never met.

Maybe that was unfair but it was reality.

Mitch sat there and drank the entire drink he bought for me. I wasn't sure if that was his way of being cute or flirty, but it was a little weird for me. And it made him look cheap that he kept bringing up the nine bucks it cost him over and over.

Karen gave me the eye a few times, wondering if I was having a good time.

More than once I shook my head at her.

She brought another one of my drinks, which I regrettably drank.

That really settled in on me hard.

Then Mitch started talking about his sales job.

My mind went back to the cabin. That cozy little cabin. All the things that could have happened there. Should have happened there. At the very least, knowing what River had been doing for ten years. It was so unfair of me to get angry at him over not chasing me down. He did what he felt was right for me and for him. And he showed up ten years later, as promised.

I finally couldn't take anymore at the bar so I stood up.

The bar started to spin.

I took a deep breath so I didn't appear drunk.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a ten. I put it in front of Mitch.

"What's that for?" he asked

"The drink," I said. "I didn't ask for it. And you can keep the extra dollar, since you seem to need it more."



       
         
       
        

My bitch level was usually between a two and a three. Very rarely did I break the number five threshold. But for some reason, after hearing that guy ramble on like he had, it felt so relieving to pay him for the drink I didn't want and he drank.

I walked away, reaching for my keys, knowing that if I even thought about driving home it was a terrible decision to make.