Once Upon A Half-Time 2(54)

I’d liked it then. Now I wasn’t sure what I saw in her. The ink marred what should have been beautiful skin.

Now Mandy…she had beautiful skin. Smooth. Dark. Soft…

Too bad she wasn’t performing.

The stripper did her dance. The guys at the bar hooted.

Rick did his best to offer Bryce the same excitement Lindsey demanded from her bachelorette party, but Bryce refused the night out and opted for a couple drinks in my bar.

I wasn’t sure he tasted them. He had five beers before he said a single word, and he wasn’t too excited about the stripper. The guys thought she was pretty, and all women who glued tassels to their nipples had an entertaining quality about them, but Bryce wasn’t interested.

Then again, neither was I.

The stripper was once my type—fake and blonde—but she didn’t do it for me this time.

Son of a bitch, I knew why.

She wasn’t Mandy.

She didn’t have her curves. Didn’t share that innocent quirk in her smile. Didn’t have the gentle swell of her breasts.

She didn’t have her laugh. Her sense of humor. The tinkling little sing-song inflection to her words.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember fucking the stripper. Couldn’t.

All I pictured was Mandy, and it was a damn good memory. I remembered the first time I took her, I still fantasized about that night under the stars, and I relived those perfect hours on her couch when I forgot to breathe, to think, to do anything but stare in her eyes as we moved together in a perfect embrace.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I never liked it gentle before, and suddenly I was…making love?

Jesus, I needed to shotgun a couple beers too.

I broke out a new brew I’d saved specifically for the bachelor party. Bryce liked the darker ales, and I made a recipe in his honor. I raised the glass, and the dozen friends we invited to join the festivities readied for a toast.

I grinned. “Bryce, man, I just wanted to say—”

Bryce chugged his beer without waiting.

The fuck? If I knew he wasn’t going to taste it, I’d have fermented motor oil for his fucking party.

Rick shrugged. He held his glass towards his brother. “To…Bryce.”

Bryce was my best friend, and I wasn’t about to deny him getting drunk at his own party, but I pulled the pitcher away before he drank all of it and destroyed his liver three weeks before the wedding.

Rick passed him a glass as the stripper packed up her clothes. She blew Bryce a kiss. He didn’t react, just stared at the table and clutched his beer.

“Wish you hadn’t gotten a stripper,” Bryce finally said.

I smirked. “Isn’t it tradition?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Don’t tell me Lindsey forbade a stripper?”

“So what if she did?” Rick snorted. I didn’t like his tone. “I think a woman’s got a right to know where her man’s been, right, Nate?”

Jesus, whatever. I took a drink, but Rick didn’t break his stare with me. Bryce shook his head.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t want any…temptation.” He waved a hand. “No. Inspiration.”

Now he had me confused, which wasn’t too hard. I didn’t understand most of the bullshit Bryce put up with to please his bridezilla.

“Look…” Bryce lowered his voice. “Lindsey and I haven’t…you know…for about a month.”

There wasn’t enough beer in my bar to talk about our feelings. Rick and I both tensed. It was so much easier when we were kids and could just play Halo to pass the time.

“You haven’t had sex?” Rick cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

Wasn’t that the point of having a committed relationship? I frowned. “Why?”

“Lindsey wants to try for kids now. She stopped taking her pill and is, um…ready.”

Rick and I eased away from the table. Bryce nodded.

“Yeah,” he said.

“So…” I drummed my fingers against my beer bottle. “Good?”

Bryce yelled, nearly tipping over the pitcher. “What do you mean good? For Christ’s sake, we aren’t even married yet! She’s planning what color to paint a nursery, and I’m still trying to figure out how to do a dance from a movie that came out before we were born.”

“You’re getting married,” I said. “So she wants kids? Have some kids.”

“Easy for you to say.” Rick snorted into his beer. “You’ve never had a relationship last long enough for the condom to dry out.”

Fuck, what was with all these people judging my sex life lately?

Rick was lucky he was tipsy. That fourth beer saved him from a serious discussion with my fucking fist.