I snap back to reality when someone abruptly bumps into me. I take a deep breath and start walking toward her, trying desperately to come up with something witty to say. Unfortunately, words elude me. That’s when she’s unexpectedly shoved right into me. She loses her footing and falls clumsily into my arms. I only hold her for a few seconds, but when she looks up into my eyes, all I can see is the rest of my life. Until I feel a burning pain. She gasps while she rights herself. Then she starts patting at my chest.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That looks really bad. We should get you some ice,” she rambles erratically, but I can’t seem to pull my attention away from her face. She’s completely captivated me. “Hey?” The blonde goddess waves her hand in front of me. “Are you in shock or something?”
Um, yes, actually, because all I can think about is what you taste like.
I look down to see a hole in my shirt and my left pec. I put my hand over my chest and order myself to speak. “No, I’m okay, it only hurts a lot,” I smirk.
“I’m so sorry. That girl pushed me.” She looks around for the drunken stumbler, but she’s gone, and if I ever see her again, I’m going to buy her a house. “I’ll buy you a new shirt and pay for the ER visit,” she jokes, and I laugh. Pretty and funny.
“No need. A drink will do.”
She looks at me with a small, sheepish frown; she’s several inches shorter than I am, even with her sexy-as-all-hell, sky-high stilettos. “Coke or Sprite?” She holds up her arm showing me her wrist. She’s underage.Fuck.
“Okay then, I’ll buy the drinks.” I smile and grab her hand, because I don’t ever want this girl more than an arm’s length away from me ever again.
“I can’t drink,” she says as she shuffles behind me, her hand latching onto mine.
Her touch is the best feeling I have ever experienced in my twenty-one years.
“There’s no such thing as can’t.”
I slam on the bar to get Mac’s attention. He looks up from the ice bin with two cups in his hand and throws a head nod. “What do you want to drink?”
“I told you I can’t drink. No shiny wrist jewelry, remember?”
“Look,”love of my life,“I work here, and see him? He’s my best friend. He’ll hook it up. So just tell me.”
“And what exactly is it you do here?” she questions.
“Bartender. Now tell me what you want to drink,” I press.
She exhales, seemingly annoyed, flutters her eyelashes, and ponders for a second.“Cuba Libre.”
“Seriously?” I curl my lip.
“Don’t know what it is? I thought you said you worked here?”
“I do—”
“And you don’t know what a Cuba Libre is?”
“I do, but only sixty-year-old men in cheesy suits order those.” I laugh, and then I realize she’s screwing with me.
“What’ll it be, Romeo?” Mac interrupts us.
“My usual and a Cuba Libre for the lady,Flannigan.”
Mac smiles broadly and so does my future wife. “Coming up.”
“Hey.” I grab Mac’s arm and gesture with my eyes down to her wrist.
“Got it covered, bro, noticed that before.” He smirks conspiratorially before walking over to the ice bin. He grabs one small, clear plastic cup and one large, yellow Solo cup. It’s how alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks are differentiated. Only twenty-one and older get the clear cups.
“Finally got that, huh?” she smarts off, and I realize I haven’t even asked her name.
“Cocktailis one of my all-time favorite movies,” I counter, while shaking my head with an exaggerated no. “I’m Ryan, by the way.” I put my hand out, and I know it’s a corny gesture, but I justhaveto touch her again.
“Alana.” She puts her hand in mine, and my whole body electrifies.