We Meet Again

01 | Natalia

WE
MEET
AGAIN
I

"Natalia, for the love of God, either take the shot or don't."

Shit. The pressure is real.

Nobody knows. . . but I'm three seconds away from having a mental breakdown.

I stare at the cognac shot in front of me with narrow eyes, mentally listing the reasons why I shouldn't throw down the impenetrable liquid.

One, I'm a sloppy drunk.

Two, I'm a horny drunk — Which ultimately leads me to make the worst decisions of my life, along with the sloppiness aspect of it.

Three, I don't have the time to sit here and get wasted on a meaningless Saturday night.

Of course, my brain now has to contradict itself.

Mmm, but I didn't get dragged to The Lounge to sit here and watch my friends get drunk now did I?

Okay, so let's list the reason why I should take this shot.

One, I'm horny.

Two, I'm stressed. . . and yeah . . . fuck it.

I drown out my last reason as I hastily pick up the tiny round glass and throw my head back to welcome the liquid that's now scorching my throat.

I immediately sputter in response. The corner of my eyes prick with tears as I turn my gaze to the idiot beside me, a shit-eating grin adorning his handsome face.

Matteo, my best friend or best nuisance, couldn't tell you, cheers loudly. Clapping his hands together as if I just told him I was being placed on the Hall of Fame.

"See, that wasn't so bad was it?" He laughs, totally unaware of the mental battle I just dealt with.

"No. That was absolutely terrible." I say stalely.

The bitter taste still lingers on my tongue. My stomach is doing somersaults after the liquid hell I just put it through.

The adrenaline starts to pump through my veins and I can't tell if I'm instantly hating it or loving it.

I don't drink very often so the few times when I do decide to drink it sends my body through electrical circuits. As much as I hate to admit it, the feeling is kind of exhilarating.

It's a Saturday night and The Lounge is at its very peak right now with dancing bodies on the main floor, dim lighting to set the ambiance, and music so loud it vertebrates beyond the club's exterior.

Our booth is situated upstairs in the VIP area, protecting us from the havoc that's going on below us. Considering The Lounge is Matteo's local, he's pretty much a celebrity here. If you even think for a second that memorizing the bartender and bouncer's full entire life story is normal, it's not.

From across the booth I can see Scarlett pouring three more shots of cognac and I'm instantly mortified.

"God, no, please." I practically beg.

The only response I get in return is laughter.

I let out a deep, long sigh.

"Babe, you never come out with us. Of course we're going to get you wasted." Matteo throws his muscular arm around me, my shoulders slightly dip from the added weight.

Jesus. For someone who consumes alcohol like it's water and breathes it like it's air, he sure is still undeniably ripped.

"And it's definitely the last." I mutter unhappily.