Ed walked past her. “Again, not a race.”
Fern’s eyes rolled. “Whatever, but I think we all know what happened here.”
“Okay, but a race did not happen here.” Novots slapped her on the back.
Her laughter grabbed me, and I wanted to grab her and show her exactly what I thought her prize should be. You sound like a slime. Truth.
Pam clapped her hands. “Alright, on this table are shot glasses containing liquid.”
Ooohs and ahhhs filled the room.
Liv waved her arms. “This is called Shit-Shot-Roulette.” Spontaneous applause as Liv took a bow. “Thank you, I just made that up. Can you even believe it? Anyway, this is how it goes. Half of the shot glasses contain vodka, the others half water. You choose a shot, and if you get the vodka, you play your best poker face with the goal of us not being able to tell if you drank the water or liquor. Winner is the one voted best poker face.”
“Nice. I got this.” Andrew threw his arms over his head.
Liv pulled a card out of her pocket. “And the winner gets this delightful gift card to White Castle with a value of thirty dollars!”
Cheers erupted as Dave and Fern both cracked their necks at the same time in preparation for the kitchen contest.
Novots was, up until this weekend, the most driven, I will fuck you up to win person I’d ever met, and I’d always appreciated that trait. But I never, in my entire life, imagined I’d be so entrenched in a woman with the same attitude.
As my eyes soaked in the beauty with that long, sleek black hair, crystal blue eyes, and the most perfect body I’d ever touched, who apparently thought stretching her arms and legs would assist her in winning Shit-Shot-Roulette, I realized I adored her. I freaking adored this crazy, hot, tomboy of a woman who was unlike anyone. I had no idea how to process any of it.
Twenty minutes later, can you guess the winner? The guy who had way too much experience downing liquor without a flinch. Me.
This weekend was all about the wedding party and having some shots, a few beers for fun, but the days of drinking to numb myself were over. I was light. I saw happiness on the horizon. I saw Fern.
Chapter 7
Wedding Party Dory
A car ride later and we were at the Blind Pig Bar on Main Street. We shuffled in to find a make-shift VIP section in the back, with a handwritten “Gabe’s party” sign duck taped to the wall above some tables. Top shelf.
After a quick as you are moment, between Katie’s dog barking, and Pam’s blazing tap dance, we stunned the crap out of the tables close by. But I couldn’t tear my eyeballs from Gabe and his Magic Mike moves. Yowza.
Slow and sexy while his muscles seemed to give his sweatshirt a work out. It ended with a chick from the next table shimmying over and sliding a ten-dollar bill into the waist of his jeans. Oh, the boy had skills, and maybe a new side hustle. Yes, please. Bottom line: it was on like beer pong.
Nachos, wings, and sliders, along with drinks and shots, were piled onto our table. I made sure to eat a little of everything because I did not want to be the drunk gal they were all talking about tomorrow. Nope, been there, done that. I was a grown up now, not Dave’s little sister who’s a lush. But after two shots and a Colorado Bulldog, that plan shot out the window: Byyeee.
The music was pumping while most of our group hit the dance floor hard. Once Dave and Liv left the table, I hung back with Gabe and turned my back toward the dance floor so nobody would see the hearts shooting from my eye sockets while I gazed at him. Sigh.
He leaned on the table. “Your cheeks are getting rosy, Fern Ethel.”
My hands touched them, and yes, they were two zillion degrees. “Damn vodka.”
“I like it.” He leaned a little closer. “It reminds me of last night.”
My tummy did a back flip at the thought of him remembering the time in his bed.
As a song finished, a loud voice came through the speakers. “Good evening, one and all! I hear we have a wedding party in the house!” Our group cheered as Gabe and I headed toward them. “I was instructed by a very bossy Liv to announce that it’s as you are time!”
I shrugged and started twirking. While I’d never be a dancing queen, I could feel I was improving, (said Vodka) so it was really a win/win situation.
The DJ waved his arm in the air. “Now, if you like that, you’ll love this. It’s ants in your pants time!” The room cheered. WTH?
“In honor of the wedding party, I’ve set up our big-ass Jenga game to my left.” He pointed at the blocks that were in a six-foot tower. “The twist is that each time you pull a block, there’s a dare written on it that you must do in order to continue playing. Some are challenging, and some down-right inappropriate, but the winning team gets a round of shots. I think boys versus girls would be the best option!”
That was it. I was certain the Blind Pig bar was the coolest bar in the Northern hemisphere. I grabbed the girls around me and jerked them toward our future victory.
