squared [Shoey Dawceffa]

Chapter 2

I didn't like to admit when Drew was right, but I'm glad that he made me go out tonight.

Eight or nine beers in, on his tab (because that's the only way I agreed to keep drinking.) and the bar was about to be closing up. Much to Drew's dismay, and my secret disappointment, we hadn't made much progress in our plan to finding a guy. Either my standards were too high, which is ridiculous all on its own considering the last time I got any action, or they were all too straight.

Either way, a few hours after we arrived we ended up walking out of the bar into the chilly air, leaning against each other for support.

"I think," Drew readjusted the arm that was around my shoulder, "You should have gone with Goatee man."

"Oh, for fucks sake," I groaned, "He was the worst of all!"

"No Shane, he was the best."

"Lies."

"He may not have had the prettiest face," Drew argued, "But I mean, in order to do what you do, he has to be behind you anyway, am I right?" He laughed loudly while I groaned again.

"Yes. Right. Because that's the only position my people do it in."

"Exactly my point," Drew cackled loudly. "So at the end of the day, it didn't really matter what he looked like."

"Right," I agreed sarcastically.

I fished around in my pocket until my fingers clasped around my keychain. Gripping tightly to Drew's white shirt (he had promptly removed his dress shirt before we even entered the pub.) I clicked the button twice, unlocking the doors to my car.

"No, no, fuck that," Drew said. "You're way more drunk than I am," he made a move to grab the keys out of my hands. "No way am I getting in that death-trap with you."

"Am not!" I retorted.

"Are too!"

"I'm fine, look," I said proudly, shrugging his arm off my shoulder as I attempted to walk a straight line. I like to imagine there was a giant boulder that I tripped over, causing me to almost fall to my death, but in all reality I had tripped over my own foot.

"Fine my ass," Drew cackled as he swooped in, snatching my keys from my hand before putting a steady hand to my back. "You're wobbling like the knees of a thirteen year old virgin with her panties down."

"Jesus, Drew," I winced at his words, "Your mouth!"

"Yeah, you'd like it, baby-cakes," he laughed loudly as he opened the passenger door and pushed me into the seat. "But, like I said earlier, I'm just not that into you. Kind of lacking in the vagina department."

"Ugh," I groaned to myself, since he had already shut the door and was jogging around to the driver's side. I struggled to clasp my seat belt, all too aware of how my tolerance for alcohol had diminished since college. "Maybe we should take an uber?" I asked, blinking my eyes more than necessary as I watched him buckle his seatbelt and turn the car on without any struggle.

"Nah, buddy," he shrugged. "Back in where i came from, we would drink nine beers at lunch."

"You haven't lived in there since you were twelve years old."

"And?"

"Andddd," I paused, "Twelve year olds don't drink nine beers at lunch."

"Maybe not here," Drew shifted the car into reverse and began to back out of the space. "Where you sons-of-motherfuckers don't even let twelve year olds sit at the same table as adults," he paused to shift the car into first. "But back there? The legal drinking age is when you can see over the counter."