I ran my hands over the smooth plastic and stepped back. “Just water for now.”
The five of them wrestled to the bar and left me in front of the fire to burn.
Seeing an empty table in the back, I hurried and sat, waiting for my friends. Jaime, Aoife, and Owen sidled next to me while Marissa and Zoey went to the bathroom.
“Here, Rory.” Jaime passed me a water bottle and I guzzled the cool liquid.
The three of them clinked glasses and drank their pints. I took Jaime’s Guinness and took a large sip, appreciating the coffee-chocolate flavor. When I looked up, Jaime rubbed at his upper lip with a quiet chuckle.
“What?” I pawed at my face and hair.
He leaned into me, and I smelled the bittersweet malt travel across my cheek. “You have a mustache,” he whispered.
“Yeah, I know. That one-euro eyeshadow wasn’t waterproof.”
“No, not that.” Jaime’s husky voice made the skin on my neck tingle.
My hand rose to my face but he beat me to it. With the backside of his thumb, he gently stroked the skin under my nose. Without thinking, I puckered my lips and kissed his thumb, and his hand stopped. I raised my eyes, encouraged by the desire hiding behind his pupils, and kissed him again. Redness crawled up his neck and face, matching the color of his hair, and I grinned.
“Thank you.” I look another large sip of his beer, feeling frisky. Our friends leaned into each other, unaware that Jaime and I had just shared an intimate moment, and I was pleased with our little secret.
Being an inexperienced drinker, the two gulps of Guinness shot bravery up and down my body, and I took another gulp before shifting my weight toward Aoife. “Aoife.” I interrupted her conversation with Zoey, and clinked glasses to break up the awkward glare coming from her beautiful blue eyes. “I’ve noticed a chemistry between you and Jaime. What’s your story?”
Zoey leaned toward us as Aoife explained. “He was my boyfriend. Owen set us up on a blind date. We had our fun, but it wasn’t a match made in heaven. He was one, but not the one. Now we’re best friends.” Her explanation made it sound so simple.
I blinked and scrunched my brows. He never told me they dated. Or that they were best friends. “When did you date?”
“Second year of college.”
I blinked again, and I detected a smirk pulling at her lips. “Second year, like last year?”
“That’s the one.”
Jaime sat on the other side of Aoife, but he was deep in conversation with Owen and oblivious to our discussion. I glanced around the table and excused myself to the bathroom. A sudden tightness formed in my chest, and I bit my cheeks. My vision blurred from the tears threatening to fall. How did I miss this? My walls rose around me, and the protection around my heart turned to stone.
Later that night, I stood in a line about ten deep for the loo and used the extended time to clear my head. I raised my eyes to Marissa and Zoey as they passed and gave a little wave.
I needed to play it cool. Aoife knew I was jealous. I could see her confidence grow in the crinkle of her eyes, the carefree touch on Jaime’s arm, and how she leaned into him to get his attention. I couldn’t tell if she liked him or was trying to make me jealous.
Owen. That’s my ticket to get Jaime interested. A plan unfolded in my mind as I crept closer to the loo door. Rage burned behind my eyes, determined to show Aoife that she couldn’t push me around.
I didn’t notice the line moving until the girl behind me tapped me on the shoulder. Stepping forward, and lost in my thoughts, I had lost track of time and didn’t know how long I was away from the table.
A semi-solid plan formed in my head by the time I was in and out of the bathroom. I marched to the bar and ordered a whiskey, tossing it down my throat in one gulp. I threw an extra coin on the counter out of habit and left before the bartender could return my tip. I wasn’t feeling drunk, but I knew I would once the alcohol circulated throughout my limbs.
Sliding into Aoife, she shimmied closer to Jaime, and I immediately regretted my seat choice. Owen sat across from me, looking out at the crowd, and Marissa and Zoey giggled in their private bubble.
In my distorted mind, I saw our party of six as a party of two pairs, and Owen and I on the outskirts.
“Hey, Owen,” I said. “Need another drink? My treat.”
He and I pushed through a mob of Halloween characters, squeezing between zombies, witches, and leprechauns, before we ended at the pub bar. “Two pints, please,” I said to the bartender who was dressed in an American Flag t-shirt and cowboy hat.
“Harp,” Owen added.
After handing us our pints, I said to the bartender, “I see you’re an American. Nice costume.”
“Toby Keith. My American cousin sent me his CD and I can’t get enough.”
