When I Taste Tequila [h.s] ✓

1. Now

London, October 2019

The wind flips my wayward hair forward into my eyes. Sweeping my hand through it to brush back the strands, I wish once again that I would have grabbed my beanie before leaving my flat. I'm almost to the bar so there's no going back now.

It's evenings like these that have me longing to be back in Texas where the temperatures aren't as nippy in October. I never thought I'd be one to say I missed Texas of all places, being from Manchester. If I'm honest with myself, it goes beyond the weather.

Stepping inside of Arcane, I feel instant relief at the noticeable increase in warmth. My eyes sweep over the patrons at the bar, looking for a familiar blonde head.

"Harry, over here!"

I whip my head around, spotting my friend Niall waving at me from a booth in the corner near the modernized juke box that has any song you could want from the 60's to the top 40 hits currently playing on the radio. I've learned that from coming here with Niall enough times. He loves getting this booth and keeping the music entirely under his control. None of the other people here seem to mind. Niall does have good taste in tunes.

When I slide into the booth beside him, I notice his mug of beer is already halfway drained. "I feel sorry for your liver," I joke.

"My Irish liver can withstand more than yours," Niall replies before lifting his mug up in mock cheers and taking a swig. Maybe it's possible Irish people were equipped with a system made for out drinking us Englanders. I enjoy tossing a few back, but I have never and will never attempt to keep up with Niall.

"Let's do a shot," my friend suggests. "We need to celebrate."

"What are we celebrating? Did you get that promotion at work?" I ask.

"No, I didn't. But they said they'd consider me next time something comes up," Niall says with a cheerful grin plastered on his face. "So we're celebrating that. And we're sort of young and very much alive. What more reason do you need than that?"

Leave it to Niall to find the positive in getting rejected for a promotion and finding reason to celebrate from it. He's always been like that, as long as I've known him. The guy is always so fucking happy, and if he's not happy, he's looking on the bright side of any situation he finds himself in. I wish I could have been more like that.

Niall and I met our junior year of university. Funny enough, University College in Dublin where he spent his first two years and the University of Manchester where I did mine sent us both to the same college across the pond for the student exchange program. How two universities in two different countries ended up tossing the pair of us in the same tiny Texas town, I couldn't begin to tell you, but I'm grateful for it nonetheless. We've been best friends ever since. Niall says he thinks it was fate and we're "Bestie Soulmates".

That's only been awkward a few times when Niall approached me, tossing an arm around my neck and referring to me as his soulmate.

"To shot or not to shot? That tis the question," Niall declares in his best British accent.

It manages to get me laughing, despite the fact that his accent is pretty good. "If you can name where the original line came from, I'll buy the shots."

"Oh, Harry. Why thou arteth put me on the spoteth?" Niall's creepily accurate woman voice croons out before his manic cackle breaks through.

"Well? Come on." I roll my hand, encouraging him to go on.

"Hamlet, asshole. Ha!" Niall pumps both his arms in the air and then waves a hand, presumably at one of the bar waitresses.

A minute later, a short blonde dressed in Arcane's all black uniform arrives at our table. "What can I get you lads?"

It's obvious the minute Niall gives that signature look of his that he's into her. "Two shots of whiskey," he orders as his eyes move up her body and lock on her face. He tilts his head in that way that adds to his boyish charm.

By the looks of it, it's working as the girl giggles, biting into her bottom lip as she eyes Niall with just as much interest. "What kind of whiskey?"

"Pick my poison," he says. She skirts off, and I see Niall wink at her over my shoulder. "Fit wasn't she? Pretty sure I'll have her number before we leave here. See? Another reason to celebrate. Now, tell me about your day, Soulmate."

"What have I told you about that?" I huff out, shaking my head. "Same as always. At least Zayn wasn't a complete dick to me today. Only half a dick."

Zayn has cast himself as the roll of my mortal enemy at the accounting firm we both work at. From my first day there, he just hasn't liked me. Not sure why, but I gave up trying a long time ago.

"Aw, what did he do?"

"Snubbed the cupcakes I brought in for Janice's birthday. And get this." I lean forward with my arms across the top of the table. "When we all get back from her little party, there's three files on my desk with a note from him on the front. One word. 'Balance. -Z' He couldn't be bothered enough to at least put please or thank you on the note? He hates me."

"Maybe he's just shy." Niall shrugs his shoulders.

"I've worked with him for almost half a year. You think he'd still be shy after that long?"

"Hard to say."

Before we can say anything else about it, the waitress returns, sitting two shot glasses down on the table. Niall immediately points a finger a me. "Pay the pretty lady, Harry."

Damn Hamlet.

Pulling out my wallet, I slip the girl a tenner that she pockets as she heads to another table.

"Girl over there is looking at you." Niall tries to subtly nod his head towards one of the tables to his right.

I turn my head and indeed find a beautiful blond girl with her chin propped up in her hand staring at me. Our gazes meet and she lifts a hand, giving a little wave, along with a smile. I raise my brows, not expecting her to hold my gaze after being caught staring. I give her a smirk, already impressed with what I'm seeing.

"Look at you, Harry. Maybe we'll both be kissing somebody new tonight, eh?"

When I look back, Niall already has his shot glass pinched between his thumb and forefinger, but he's once again fixated on something beyond me. Probably the waitress again.

I grab my shot glass and lift it towards him. "Cheers," I toast before we both toss our glasses back.

Expecting the burn from the whiskey, it's a complete surprise when I'm hit with a smooth liquor sliding down my throat instead. My eyes I've had clamped together spring open at the assault on my palate. It's not whiskey, but the taste is so familiar. As I lick my lips, sitting the shot glass down, I can almost taste her again. I can almost feel her rich brown hair whipping at my face in the wind like it did back then, giving me the slightest whiff of her sweet perfume.

I almost see her standing in front of me, her hazel eyes dull and her cheeks tear stained.

"Oi," Niall says, bringing me back to the present. "No way was that whiskey. If it was, that's the smoothest damn whiskey ever."

"It's tequila," I answer without a hint of doubt. Running my finger over the rim of the shot glass, her memory drowns me in a way it never has before.