When Lily Langston goes to a game with her best friend. The last thing she ever thought to happen was being hit in the face with a ball.
But what left her even more shocked was when the guest pitcher himself, the known ruthless billionaire Hayes Gr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Each shot I poured for this man, the more he seemed to want to consume. Whatever night he was having, it certainly seemed to be worse than mine. Things have calmed down since the pitch incident.
It's been two months since then, and the state of Massachusetts seems to have allowed me to remain anonymous. But for a moment, I was on several news channels, and fortunately, I was not invited to Good Morning America.
Stage fright got the best of me most times, and I had to endure more humiliation than I'd already suffered. Even people in my grad classes, whom I've never spoken to, asked me about it. I knew my professor was staring at me strangely. But luckily, Jake hadn't said a single peep to me.
I simply wanted to erase myself from this narrative. After this, I would not receive any feedback on what I thought about Hayes Grant. I didn't want to relish in it, in him. Because the media was stupid, this was simply stupid. I was a joke, some type of meme that nobody would ever take seriously.
"Have you ever been cheated on?" He slurs at me slightly. That explains the maxed-out amount of alcohol he's consumed.
"In one way or another," he asked me to pour two more shots, and I looked at him skeptical.
"They're for you," he offers. I stare at the empty shot glasses and reach for my special bottle of 'vodka' it was just water.
"I'm giving myself the truly hard stuff," he says, tilting his glass of scotch. I take it, pretending to feel some type of burn.
"To failed love," he mumbles. He was one of the saddest men I've ever encountered, and that's saying a lot with a father like mine.
"Life's been that good, huh?" He nods, and I steal the rest of his drink away from him.
"Hey!"
"You've maxed out your limit, trust me. You'll be thanking me in the morning, Marvin. Have a good night," he nods and stumbles up from his seat. "I'll call you a cab," he nods with a lazy smile, and I tell Tyler, the busboy, to make the call.
I continue pouring other drinks as I hear a voice call my name. "Hey, Lil," I turn to see him. Jake sits at the bar, staring at me. He lifts a menu, pretending to read it; I already know his drink.
I began making it before he could even request it. I slid him the Dark 'N' Stormy before he could speak another word, and a smile spread across his face. "Is this fourteen-dollar drink on you?"
"Consider it a favor for later tonight," he smirks at me, and I turn back to begin other orders.
"Why are you here, Jake? I never see you in this part of town. Let alone my type of bar," I didn't mean to be a dick, but I could never picture Jake being at a bar like this. It wasn't some hole in the wall that he'd go to.
