Rolling his brown eyes, Sam gives the waitress a knowing look before turning back to me.
“Dolly, they’re bottomless. Get your money's worth!” he says.
Scrunching my face in thought, I give the matter a full second before pulling back my hand. He makes a good point; I can’t argue with his logic. I would be wasting my money if I didn’t have at least two more.
“Ok, ok, you’re right, fill ‘er up, please!”
Obliging with a smile, the young waitress fills my glassonce again to the brim. This is the first time Sam and I have had brunch at this particular spot, but I will definitely be back. I’ll be sure to leave her a bigger tip for putting up with our slightly inebriated asses.
“I’ll fill you up as many times as you need me to, baby,” she says to us, giving Sam a suggestive wink. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go check to see if your biscuits and gravy are ready.”
Carefully picking up my drink, I wiggle my eyebrows at my roommate. Bringing it to my lips, I laugh as a cocky expression falls over his handsome face. He already thinks he’s God’s gift to women, he didn’t need her little ego stroke.
“I’d do her,” he says, picking up a thick cut slice of bacon.
I can’t help but snort. He’s such a prick. Loveable, but a prick, nonetheless.
“Sam, you’d fuck any woman with a pulse,” I tease, taking a large gulp of my drink.
It’s true. I swear he brings home a different girl every night of the week. He’s the epitome of a man whore. We’re polar opposites, him and I. It’s probably why we get along so well.
Gasping from my words, he makes a show of being faux offended by my statement. Biting into his bacon, he hums for a second before shrugging his broad shoulders.
“Meh, that’s probably true,” he replies, a smug expression gracing his clean-shaven face.
Nodding my head, I put my mimosa back on the table.I’m still full from my feast last night so even though I’ve only ordered fruit, I’m struggling to make a dent in the mound. Picking up my fork, I stab a chunk of watermelon slathered in salt with no intent to eat it.
“So, what happened to Jasmine, huh? I thought you liked her.”
Shaking his head, he drops his half-eaten bacon onto his plate. Wiping his fingertips on the napkin draped across his lap, he leans in closer.
“Oh no! We’re not talking about my conquests! Not after you went out on a date with a fucking Douglas last night,” he counters, jerking his chin upwards. “Spill it, Blondie!”
Letting out a long sigh, I squirm for a hot minute in my bistro chair. Sam is the one person I can tell anything to, but I’m not sure he would understand what happened between Sutton and me. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, or even the concept of soulmates. Spreading his seed far and wide like Johnny Appleseed is what he’s all about.
“I really like him. We, uh, I don’t know how to explain it. We just had this instant connection. I felt like I had known him all my life…and I think I’m going to marry him,” I reply.
Dropping his jaw, a gagged sound squeezes from his throat. He blinks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Maybe I have.
“Woah, woah, woah…Dolly…I’m sorry. You think you’re going tomarryhim? What in the actual fuck? You’ve spent what, four hoursmaxwith this guy? And you think you’re going tomarryhim?” he all but yells in disbelief.
Letting my fork fall to my plate, I sheepishly nod my head. My cheeks flush from a mixture of champagne and embarrassment, I can barely meet his dumbfounded gaze.
“Well, when you put it like that I guess it sounds really stupid of me but…yeah? I don’t know how to explain it. I justfeelthat he’s my future husband. Like, my soul knows it.”
Letting out a full-bodied laugh, the deep sound cuts through the French music playing in the background. See, what did I tell you? I was right! He doesn’t understand my instant connection with Sutton. I hope he does someday, so he can come back and apologize.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! This isn’t one of your fucking romance novels, Dolly! This is real life! It doesn’t work that way! You’re just into him because he and his family have more money than God!” he barks, his voice tinged in disgust.
Rolling my glassy eyes, I try with all my might not to let his response get to me. If I was stone cold sober, I would probably argue back. But my mind is fuzzy right now, and I’m feeling too good to care.
“Whatever, Sam. You weren’t there! You didn’t see howsweethe was to me! He was nothing but a total gentleman, he treated me with kindness and respect. Helistenedto me, like, reallylistened to my hopes and dreams,” I say, trying to catch his annoyed gaze. “He pouredallhis attention into me while I blabbed about my future plans. He made me feel really hot and desirable, he gave me the sweetest compliments! Oh!And!He let me eat fucking food without making me feel like a beached whale!”
Snapping his mouth closed, Sam listens to me as I ramble on about how wonderful Sutton Douglas is. After a few moments, his annoyed expression turns unusually serious. His eyes warm as he stares at me, his athletic body softens in a way I haven’t noticed before. Clearing his throat, he interrupts my chaotic train of thought.
“I do all of those things too, Dolly,” he says, the smallest grin lifting his full lips.
Freezing as his words wiggle their way into my brain, their implications cause my heart to jump into my throat. Did I just hear what I think I did? Or is the champagne finally getting to me?
