Tequila Tequila Page 3

  And there should have been.

  This was way more valuable than algebra, and I was basically an expert in that.

  Or I was. I hadn’t used it for seven years.

  Who said school was useful?

  I tossed the empty packet of Doritos to the side and focused on the TV. The credits for American Pickers blinked off the screen, but I really didn’t care what Frank and Mike were doing tonight.

  Nope.

  All I could picture in my head was my best friend.

  Aspen. Dark hair. Honey eyes. Full lips. A smile brighter than LED lights on a Christmas tree.

  Perhaps the weirdest way I’d ever referred to a woman’s smile, but effective all the same.

  Fuck. She was my best friend.

  We’d made sandcastles together in Kindergarten—and she’d hit me with her spade, cementing our friendship for life.

  I’d stuck up for her in second grade when she’d forgotten she was wearing a skirt on the monkey bars and accidentally flashed the entire playground.

  She’d pulled a girl’s hair in fourth grade when she’d been mean to me.

  Sixth grade had brought puberty for us both, and I’d given her my sweater when someone had stolen her training bra.

  Ninth grade had come with a cheating asshole who’d taken her for granted—and my fist cracking his nose.

  Twelfth grade had come with prom, where I’d asked her before I’d considered asking anyone else. She’d said yes, and we’d spent the night with our friends, secretly drinking and laughing our asses off the entire night.

  No, fuck. I couldn’t lose her.

  I couldn’t ever tell her what had happened last night.

  I couldn’t ever sit in front of her and tell her the truth, not if she didn’t remember. If she had genuinely forgotten about that disaster, then good for her. I wished I could.

  I wished I could wipe the memory of what we’d done. Not knowing that it had happened was definitely preferable.

  Yep.

  It was that simple. Last night had to remain a secret.

  At all costs.

  ***

  “If you kept your fridge properly stocked, you wouldn’t need to raid mine.” Aspen flicked her golden-brown hair over her shoulder. It was a mess of waves and straightness, and I knew she’d gone to bed with wet hair.

  “I just haven’t been to the store yet,” I said, pulling the cream cheese from her fridge. “Do you have bagels?”

  “Yeah. Do you even have bread?”

  “It might not be edible, but I have some.” I wasn’t actually sure. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. “Can I have a bagel?”

  “There is zero point in me answering that question.” She pulled her coffee cup from under the machine and took the milk off the island. “You’re going to take two no matter what I say.”

  Laughing, I grabbed the bagel packet and pulled two out. “At least I’m not asking you to make them for me.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re cleaning up your mess.”

  “I have to be at work in an hour!”

  “Luke.” She spun around and fixed me with her honey eyes. “If you cannot make, eat, and clean up after yourself and get to work in an hour, then you need to move back in with your mom.”

  “Hard pass.” I cut the bagels in half. “Not as long as my grandma is living there.”

  Aspen shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to live with her either.”

  “Why? Because she’ll force-feed you tequila?”

  “I’ve had enough tequila to last me a lifetime,” she replied shortly.

  “Until your birthday next weekend.”

  “I’m not drinking on my birthday. I’m going to be a responsible adult, stay in, and watch a movie.”

  “Have you told Blaire that yet?”

  She paused. “No, but…”

  I laughed, putting one bagel into the toaster. “Please let me be there when you do that.”

  “You know, I can stop you coming in here and eating my food any time I want.”

  “I have a spare key.”

  “I’ll change the lock.”

  “And you’ll give me another key because you lose just about everything that’s smaller than your cell phone. Not that your phone is even safe from being lost itself…”

  “One time, Luke. One time.”

  “Maybe one time a month.”

  “That’s it.” She darted toward me and pulled my just-popped bagel from the toaster before I had to get it. “This is mine. Thanks for making me breakfast.”

  I glared at her, but she ignored me, choosing to take the cream cheese and slather a thick layer on one side of the bagel. She put the top on it then bit into it, grinning at me with a smear of cheese on her cheek.

  “You even eat like a two-year-old,” I said, putting the other bagel in.

  “And you eat like a fifteen-year-old boy in perpetual puberty,” she shot back. “And you cost me a fortune. No wonder you have more money than me. You eat all mine.”

  Sadly accurate. “That’s how it works when you’re best friends. I eat all your money, and then you drink mine.”

  “Not anymore. I’m quitting drinking.”

  “Sure you are, Asp. Just like you did after your twenty-first.”

  “Oh my God, I totally quit drinking.”

  I choked on my coffee. “For two weeks!”

  “I still quit!” She laughed, finally wiping the cheese from her face. “Just because I started again doesn’t mean I didn’t quit. But I mean it this time. I think I’m still hungover from Saturday. I can’t do it anymore. I’m getting too old for it.”

  This time, I was able to get my damn bagel before she took it. “You’re going to be twenty-five, not seventy-five.”

  “That’s a whole quarter of a century. Assuming I won’t even live to one hundred, I’ve already lived more than a quarter of my life.”

  “You won’t make it to twenty-five if you don’t stop that shit.”

  “You could never kill me. You love me way too much.”

  The bite of bagel I’d just taken went straight to the back of my mouth, blocking my throat. I choked, smacking my fist against my chest. It was well and truly fucking stuck, and the next thing I felt was a huge whack between my shoulder blades.

  The lodged piece of bagel coughed up into my hand, and I tossed it into the sink.

  “If you’re going to die, could you not do it in my apartment? I don’t think my insurance covers my best friend choking himself to death.” Aspen squeezed my arm. “And when you can breathe again, please remove your spit-food from my sink.”

  “It’s so nice to see you care so much about me,” I drawled, taking the bottle of water she offered you.

  “I just saved your life. It wasn’t Casper the friendly ghost who punched you in the back.”

  “You punched me in the back?”

  “Well, you punching yourself in the chest wasn’t working. I figured if we both did it at the same time, the air in your body would push the food out.” She shrugged and leaned against the counter, cradling her coffee. “Worked, didn’t it?”

  I nodded, standing up straight. “Or you could have just done the Heimlich.”

  Aspen rolled her eyes. “The correct thing to say is ‘thank you for saving my life.’”

  “Thank you for saving my life,” I replied, grinning.

  She glared at me until I pulled her into a one-arm hug. She stiffened, only relaxing when I let her go, but given that she’d been in a shitty mood ever since I’d shown up this morning…

  “I should go,” I said, stepping back from her. “Before I almost kill myself again. I’d hate to be an issue with your insurance company.”

  She snorted. “More like your ego couldn’t survive me having to save your ass again.”

  “Ah, how well you know me.” I winked and stuffed my phone in my pocket. “When do you start work?”

  “Four. Are you coming in?”

  “Probably. I think Justin has a crush on you.”r />
  She wrinkled her face up and shoved me. “Get your spit-food out of my sink and take your bullshit with you.”

  I laughed, scooping out the food I’d choked up, and made sure to drop it in the trash on my way out of the door.

  Something smashed, and the sound of Aspen cursing the air blue followed me as I walked away.

  Man, she was in a dreadful mood.

  CHAPTER FOUR – ASPEN

  Fuck yourself, Aunt Flo

  I threw the bar cloth down with a huff. The bar had been open for the evening for forty-five minutes, and I’d already had to diffuse one fight and throw one person out before another started.

  It was four-forty-five.

  That’s right. Clearly, some people were abiding by the rule that it was five o’clock somewhere. Don’t get me wrong, that was my favorite rule ever. I believed that everyone should indulge in “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere” at some point in their life.

  But that day was not the first day of my period.

  No, siree. Today was not the day to fuck with me. My hormones were raging, I was bleeding more than any human should have been able to without passing out, and my uterus had a miniature wolverine inside it trying to claw its way out.

  And Aunt Flo, the raging bitch, had caught me off-guard, ten minutes into my shift.

  I should have known. I’d been grumpy as fuck all day, especially this morning. Although I’d put that down to the fact Luke was eating my food, and I wanted to eat my food. All of it. Alone. In the middle of my floor without any pants on.

  Yep. That really should have been my first clue that the unwanted aunt was making a visit.

  Usually, given that this was Texas, I was the first person to complain that I was required to wear black pants to work behind the bar. Today, I was thankful.

  Black pants hid a multitude of sins.

  Like uncomfortably large sanitary pads from the ladies’ room dispenser.

  I kept my eye on the clock as it crept closer to five o’clock. Not only was I waiting for Blaire to save my ass and drop me a tampon on her way home from the lawyer’s office she worked on, but I was also waiting on Luke and his band of merry builders to traipse their dust all over my clean floor.

  And his stupid friend, Justin, who was more handsy than a toddler after the cookie jar. I didn’t care if he had a crush on me. I’d long suspected that he had, but he was also kind of a jerk, and I’d dated more than enough of those in high school.

  And in college.

  And since then.

  And there were more than enough of those sending me dick pics on dating apps.

  But I digress.

  I waved goodbye to Mr. Gomez, a regular who came in at four-fifteen on the dot every single day. He worked down at the surf shop on the beach which was just a stone’s throw from the bar. He lived a couple blocks back from here, so every day, he stopped in, bought one double gin and tonic in a pint glass, and read the paper.

  That was the fun part about where I worked. It was the perfect hangout for both regulars and tourists and those who stopped in for a night out every now and then.

  I mean, nightlife wasn’t exactly popping in Port Wynne, Texas.

  The only thing that was was the Mexican food, and that was because Luke’s grandmother was the Gordon Ramsey of Mexico.

  Complete with every other word being a profanity.

  She was simultaneously adorable and utterly fucking terrifying.

  I took a deep breath as the doors to the bar opened, and five tall, young, muscular men walked in. Luke Taylor was the first, with the other four flanking him like they were some ridiculous boyband appearing on stage for a concert or something.

  One Direction, eat your heart out.

  Well, they’d have to if they were still a thing.

  Luke’s face lit up as soon as he saw me, and he grinned wide, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Hey. How’s your day been?”

  Great. I started bleeding from my vagina, I don’t have any chocolate here, and now I have to handle your buddies here.

  “Aside from having to break up a fight and kick someone out with the help of Mr. Gomez, great,” I replied. “Yours?”

  “Well, Sean resisted the urge to catcall random women today after the boss choked him on his own balls, so not bad.” His eyes twinkled a little brighter.

  “You guys want your usual?” I scanned Luke and his workmates.

  Five nods answered me.

  “Does the usual come with your number?” Justin asked as I turned and pulled two glasses down from the shelf.

  I set both glasses on the bar, then reached down and pulled my black ballet flat from my foot and held it up. “No, but it comes with this around the back of your head if you don’t drop it.”

  He chuckled. “Whoa—calm down. You on your period or something?”

  My shoe slapped against the tiled floor when I dropped it. I leveled my eyes at him, my glare meeting his cocky, entitled stare. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that the current state of my uterus was any of your business.”

  “Justin,” Luke warned. “Get off her back.”

  Then, Blaire appeared behind Justin and smacked the back of his head with a resounding thwack.

  “Shit!” Justin ducked, rubbing his head as he turned. “The fuck was that for?”

  “If you don’t know, then I got another for you.” She wriggled her fingers with a dark glare and turned to me. “You want me to throw him out? He’s all muscle and no strength like those pretty boys on Instagram.”

  Justin bristled. “You want me to prove you wrong?”

  “Boy, you try provin’ me wrong, and you’re gonna find my heel so far up your ass that doctors are gonna be extracting it for a week.” She flicked the side of his head. “Now shut up before I make you.”

  Like he stood a chance to prove her wrong. Blaire was happily spoken for and had been for two years. She was just a little eccentric.

  I shot her a grateful smile, then one to Luke, and got to pulling their beers. They chatted amongst themselves as I did that, and I took money from each of them to pay for their drinks.

  When they were dealt with, Blaire nodded me off to the side and discreetly handed me a small, fabric pouch covered with unicorns.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “You just saved my life.”

  “And Justin’s.” She grinned.

  “And Justin’s,” I agreed. “You going to Tom’s?”

  She nodded. “He’s finally back from Michigan. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Will do. Thank you.” I hugged her quickly and retook my place back behind the bar. I tucked the little pouch beneath the bar, ignoring Luke’s questioning eyebrow raise. “So, Mack, how’s Daisy?”

  The new dad grinned wide. “Keeping me up all damn night and looking cute as she does it.”

  “Whipped by a three-week-old,” Justin muttered.

  Blaire whacked him around the back of the head as she walked past. “Don’t worry, Mack, I got it for you.”

  “Thanks, B.”

  “Anytime.” She grinned and waved as she left.

  “She’s a bitch,” Justin said, rubbing the back of his head.

  Luke side-eyed him. “Maybe if you weren’t a fucking prick every time you opened your mouth, she wouldn’t have to beat a hundred brain cells out of you every day.”

  “He never had that many to begin with,” I interjected. “Maybe when he was born, but he’s been hit so many times he forgets to use the brain cells he has left before he opens his mouth.”

  Luke snorted—and so did Mack, Sean, and Will. Justin looked like I’d kicked his puppy.

  That was what he got for asking me if I was on my period.

  I didn’t ask him what his sperm count was, did I?

  My uterus, my business.

  “Would it be so hard for you to be nice to me?” Justin asked me.

  “Would it be so hard for you to not hit on me every time we’re in the same room?” I sh
ot back before I moved to the young woman waiting to order. I poured the two glasses of wine she wanted and added it to her tab before returning to the guys.

  “She has a point,” Luke says. “She’s told you she’s not interested a thousand times. If we were in high school, I’d be breaking your nose for bugging her this much.”

  “You should still be doing that.” I pulled my glass of water from beneath the bar. “It’s in the friend code.”

  “The friend code?” Will snorted. “I don’t know why y’all never dated.”

  I choked on my water.

  “Wow,” Luke said. “Is the idea that abhorrent to you?”

  I flipped him the bird and put the glass down. “We never dated because, well, no.” I shrugged at Will. “We’re best friends. I can’t think of any situation where we’d ever want to date each other.”

  But tequila will have you screw each other.

  Will looked between us. “I always pegged you for secretly fucking each other.”

  Now, it was Justin who coughed on his drink.

  Was there something in the air today?

  “Definitely not,” I said firmly. “Never have, never will.”

  Except for Saturday night.

  Luke smirked and held out one hand. “You heard her. Besides, it’s not like she can handle me.”

  I rested my hand on my hip and cocked it out. “I couldn’t handle you? Who do you peg yourself for? Some hotshot porn star?”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “Luke, you almost killed yourself on a mouthful of bagel this morning. You’re hardly going to blow my mind in bed if you can’t even eat a bagel without choking.” Or, you know, I mean, in general, apparently…

  “Choking on a bagel and having sex are two different things,” he said.

  I snorted and put my glass back under the bar. “I should damn well hope so. If not, I have an awful lot of questions.”

  “Yeah,” Justin piped up. “The only thing you should choke on is—”

  “Finish that sentence, and you’ll be choking on my fist,” I snapped at him, pointing my finger at his face. “I dare you.”

  Justin said nothing, instead choosing to flip me his middle finger and disappear to the bathrooms.