Page 25 of Bastard Bartender

“That’s depressing.”

“I’m not freaked out by commitment. I just refuse to do it just for the sake of settling down.”

“You want to play the field.”

“The most important thing in a relationship is for a woman to respect my time off, private space, and not be a clingy, possessive, and nagging maniac.”

I snort-laugh. “You don’t need a lover. You need a mother.”

“Maybe I should marry a very practical or maternal type, just so she’ll handle the everyday reality while I retain my boyish freedom.”

“You’re such a charmer.”

“Sounds to me like you’re up for the job,” he croons.

Marie chuckles from her seat. “You two have to admit, I have something great that you don’t. Sexual stability. There’s no wondering where my next lay is going to come from. And that awful feeling of hoping the person you like is good in bed. Do they landscape their garden? Will they kiss like a fish? Do they close their eyes or stare at you while you’re having sex?”

“Oh, I hate when they stare,” I say.

“Eww, no. I have a hard enough time making eye contact when talking to people. And kissing someone with your eyes wide is a no-go. I’m all about closing my eyes and letting every sensation roll through me,” she says to him with excitement.

Nic nods his head in agreement. “I feel you. The darker, the better—that way, your other senses take flight and bring more magic to the act.”

“Oh, magic. I like that term for sex,” Marie says, batting her eyes his way.

“That said, if you can’t look your lover in the eye, you’re going to bed with the wrong man.” I shimmy as I lean over to take a shot.

When Nic’s fingers lightly brush my elbow, lifting it up, I take a deep inhale and have to re-steady my body. When he speaks, I’m a goner.

“My buddy Logan is a spiritual Reiki master who believes you can harness your sexual energy for spiritual growth. There is no other act in life that can make you feel so alive, so free, and so fucking good, all at the same time. Being in a vulnerable, bared state, all the pretenses are stripped away. It’s very intimate to look into someone’s eyes while receiving pleasure.”

I take my shot, and the stick completely misses the ball.

Nic chuckles. “You okay there, Evette?”

I walk to the pub-height table next to Marie and raise my glass to my lips. “I’m good. Maybe billiards isn’t my game.”

I hand Marie my stick, and she hops off.

“All right, Rico Suave, rerack, and let’s start fresh. I want to hear more about these open-eyed orgasms while I kick your ass.”

He looks at his phone. “I have ten more minutes to spare. I think I can whoop your ass in that amount of time.”

While these two embark on a round of pool, I take a seat and finish my drink while trying to tame my very wild hormones from jumping out of my skin.

Somewhere over the course of a game of pool, I’ve gone from being friends with Nic to being incredibly, wildly, attracted to him. Yes, I’ve found him attractive from the first time I met him, but this is different. My body is on fire from just being near him. It’s okay, I guess. I can be attracted to someone who is a friend. Marie does it all the time.

We finish our game of pool. Hours go by as Nic goes back to work while Marie and I dance, drink, and are told the funniest jokes we’ve ever heard by our new best friend, Nic.

“Oh my God!” Marie says, turning to me, and I look up at her. “Evette has tickets to the Justin Bieber concert this week! You should come with us.” Marie glances at me with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m down.” Nic shrugs like it’s no big deal.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you a closet Belieber?”

His laugh hits me down to my core, so carefree and real. “No. But I’m always ready for a good show. The guy has moves, so I’m sure it will be fun. And he’s out of his teenybopper stage, so I’m guessing it won’t be a ton of screaming twelve-year-olds.”

Marie dives into her bag and grabs a pen and a business card to scribble on. “Here, this is her number.” She writes my name and then looks at me like she’s waiting for me to say it out loud.

I chuckle under my breath. “What, you don’t know my number?”

“No, bitch. You know I just hit your name on my phone. I don’t need to know the actual digits anymore.”

I give it to her, and she slides the card to Nic.

He picks it up and stuffs it in his back pocket. “Sounds like fun.”

“Hell yeah, it does,” Marie says.

I know she’s up to something. Drunk or not, when the girl gets an idea in her mind, she’s bound and determined to make it happen.