“My own amusement?” Naomi giggles.
“Ooo, what are we drinking?”
I glance up as Brooklyn and Dove, fresh off the dance floor, slide into the booth. Brooklyn glances past Naomi at me and smirks.
“Anymore buttholes on your phone?” she snorts. “Dude, you gotta raise your standards.”
Dove furrows her brow, smoothing her silvery-pink hair—not gonna lie,kindawant to try that look—back into place. “I think I missed something?”
I like Dove, and again, she’soutrageouslytalented. But we’ve never really click-clicked. Partly, she’s got a bit of a wall up when it comes to men. But the rest? Who knows.
“Val, Turboslut that he is?—”
“I’m sittingrighthere,” I mutter.
Milena blows me a kiss. “I mean,debonair cadthat he is…”
I nod my approval. “Much better. Proceed.”
She rolls her eyes and turns back to Dove. “Two total sketchballs texted him their…uh…”
“Assholes,” Brooklyn says with a dry smirk. She glances at me and sighs. “Yeah, I’m gonna go with the rest of them here. You need to raise your standards, buddy.”
I grin as the rest of the booth loses it.
“Anyway,” Naomi laughs. “We’re drinking tequila.”
“Or vodka,” Milena amends.
Naomi pushes two shot glasses toward Brooklyn and Dove. “Got you guys.”
Brooklyn groans. Dove just smiles and shrugs her shoulders. “I’m good. Thanks though.”
“You sure?”
She nods her chin. “Yup, all set.”
Curious.
The rest of us do our shots with a cheers.
I’m funny with alcohol. I mean Ilikehaving a drink, socially. I alsolikecertain not very hardcore drugs, occasionally. But I could also do without either one and be completely fine.
I get that some people trulyneeddrugs or alcohol to get past social anxiety, to lose their inhibitions a little so they can actually enjoy themselves. I know introverts who drink in social settings simply becausenotdrinking in those situations would be impossible for them.
But when I say I could do without either, I mean I could still go out and have awildtime without either.
I believe they call that “high on life”..
Just then, another familiar face appears at the table.
“Evie!” Milena blurts, grinning as she jumps out of the booth to hug our friend. “Come sit!”
“Uhh…” Naomi frowns at the neon pink, fishbowl-sized cocktail in her hands. “What’s that?”
Evie grins widely. “These guys at the bar bought it for me! Isn’t itcute?”
“Yeah, cute, spelledalcohol poisoning,” I mutter as Milena shakes her head and reaches for it.
