My hand slid across the table and wrapped around the beer. God, yes, I am so sure.
“It’ll be fine,” I reassured them.
I could be like everyone else. I could have one drink for my best friend’s birthday. This was totally possible.
The first sip brought it all back. It was an effort not to empty the bottle. It tasted so good. So fucking good.
But I felt Landon’s and Patrick’s eyes on me. Worry creased in every line of their face. So, I forced myself to put the drink down and grin. Some of that worry left their eyes.
Everything went back to normal. Our food came. I finished my beer. We ordered another round. We were all having such a good time that, when I went through the third beer, I wasn’t even sure anyone else had noticed.
“I know you wanted this to be a small thing,” Evan said after we all finished eating. “But I might have invited the rest of the guys for drinks at Flips. It’s supposed to be a surprise party. So, act surprised.”
Patrick laughed. “You sneaky motherfucker.”
Now, Landon glanced at me. “Maybe we should head out.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I asked.
“Famous last words, Austin.”
“Ah, come on, man. It’s not a big deal. We’ll hang out for a couple of hours and then get back to the girls.”
“You sure that you’re okay?”
“Fine.”
We all stood to go, and I was pleased to see that I could walk just fine. If I’d felt drunk at all, I might have heeded Landon’s warning, but I didn’t feel drunk. I was fine. Even better than fine.
I peeled out of the parking lot of The Shack and sped toward Flips. I hadn’t been in a bar since that night I was with Julia at the dueling piano bar downtown. I used to live in them.
Maybe I should have been worried that it felt like coming home.
But all I felt was relief as the group of us entered the favorite local bar.
A large group of guys that I recognized from work, the gym, and college called, “Surprise!”
Patrick laughed and moved to the center of the festivities. We were herded together. Beers were handed to us. Shots on trays appeared. Everything started to turn into a blur. Just a haze of alcohol like I hadn’t had in a long time. Even Patrick and Landon seemed to have had enough that they were retreating back into that time before. Back when this had been my life.
The next thing I knew, we were walking up to the bar like fools.
“Peter,” I said, tipping my head at the bartender.
“Wright.”
I always thought he called me that because he couldn’t or didn’t want to tell us apart.
“Three rounds of Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
Peter’s eyebrows rose high. “All right, man.”
“It’s Patrick’s birthday,” I said, clapping my best friend on the back.
Peter poured out the drinks, and I passed over my credit card to pay for it all. As a drink, the Four Horsemen was a hot fucking mess. As a shot, it was worse.
One shot Jim Beam. One shot Jack Daniel’s. One shot Johnnie Walker. One shot Jameson. And then Bacardi 151 poured over the line of shots and set on fire.
“Fuck,” Landon said.
“This is going to be fucking awesome,” Patrick said. “Take a picture!”
He passed over his phone to Peter, who begrudgingly accepted it. I could tell he hated that request. But who fucking cared? It was one picture.
Once the three of us were lined up, Peter struck a match and touched it to the end of the line. One by one, the shots went up in flames until all were ignited. I slung an arm over Landon’s and Patrick’s shoulders and grinned as Peter snapped a shot.
Then, we tipped back shot after shot.
Jim Beam went down harsh. Jack Daniel’s was a little smoother. Johnnie Walker was like heaven. And, by Jameson, I could hardly taste it at all.
I eased back into a seat as the burn from the liquor coated my stomach. Finally. There it was. There was that feeling I’d been missing. Numb.
This would be good. I used to drink way more than this without it even touching me. I was fine. I was celebrating after all.
My thoughts felt hazy. Everything was funny. I felt good. Really fucking good. God, I’d forgotten how good I could feel.
I moved forward, back to Patrick’s side, and nearly stumbled right into Evan. “Fuck, man. Sorry.”
Evan put out a hand and steadied me. “You look fucked up, dude.”
I laughed. “I feel fucked up.”
“Maybe you should slow down.”
I passed him the beer in my hand. I’d only had a sip. “Take my beer.”
Evan shook his head and laughed. “Patrick, I think you got Austin past the point of no return.”