mr. badboy

Part 43

"Don't you ever fucking settle for me, you promise?" he asks, holding out his pinky finger.

I roll my eyes but shake on it. "I'm not settling for you. I'm practically pining for you."

"Oh really?" he asks, folding his arms and raising his chin. "And this is you pining?"

"I've been showing my pining through blow jobs."

"Hmmm. I guess I approve."

The bartender slides us our drinks but Blake motions to him. "And a shot of Jameson for the lady and I. Make it two." He winks at me. "Open bar."

"You're driving," I hiss at him.

"We can cab it if we have to," he says. "Something tells me we're going to need a lot of booze to survive this cock up."

"What happened to just going home?"

"Eh, now that I'm here I want to get my money's worth." He takes the shots from the bartender and hands me mine. He holds his up. "Here's to open bars."

"To open bars," I say.

"And to us."

And even though that perpetual smirk is on his lips, I can see the depth in his eyes, the warmth, the need, the want. The fact that he absolutely has my back through all of this.

"To us."

We slam back the shots—both of them—and then the beers. And then rinse, repeat.

It's not long before I'm completely wasted. I knew I should have eaten something beforehand but I was just too nervous and Ana's dinner of cold beet soup and rye bread wasn't exactly appetizing.

Blake seems to have my back though. He's with me nearly every step of the way, even indulging me with a drunken dance, until Sarah sequesters me by myself, introducing me to her fiancé David, whom I think seems nice but he looks like the type of guy who would wear an ascot (if those even exist anymore) and get weekly manicures.

While Sarah blabbers on and on about David, in front of his face, I get more and more drunk.

One of the last things I remember is seeing Blake across the room talking to Georgia and Alan of all people. He seemed to be passionately explaining something and then all their heads swiveled my way.

I think I smiled and waved.

I'm not really sure.

All the world went black.

***

"It's okay," Blake says soothingly.

It's not okay.

It's never been less okay.

I'm on his bathroom floor on my knees, hunched over the toilet, vomiting my guts out.

At least it didn't happen last night but I can't be sure of that.

Meanwhile, Blake is holding my hair back for me, even though I've tried to push him away a few times.

God this is embarrassing. No one wants to vomit in front of the guy they're sleeping with.

Or their new boyfriend, I remind myself.

"It's okay," he says again.

I want to tell him it's not okay at all but I obviously can't speak. I heave and heave and heave until I don't have anything left to upchuck.

Then Blake scoops me up, flushes the toilet, and then leads me to the shower where he strips the both of us naked and steps inside with me.

My legs are shaking, I taste nothing but stomach acid and leftover Jameson, but the moment the hot water hits me, I feel some of last night dissolve.