was wrong. It burned all the way down. Ugh. It was awful. I scrunched my eyes closed hoping to will away the vile taste. Matty was laughing. I opened one eye, trying my best to glare at him. He hadn't drank his yet. "You wait. That hurts like hell going down."
"Happy endings? Really?" He was smirking. "Fine. I'm all for that. To happy endings." His voice was full of humor as he upended the glass. The bastard didn't even cringe.
I glared at him. "That wasn't what I meant and you know it!" I laughed at his sheepish expression. "I meant," emphasizing meant, "that my white prince could still come and knock me off my feet with his horse."
Matty didn't even try to hide his amusement. I tried to glare at him again, but his shoulders were shaking with laughter and I couldn't help but join him. "Oh, Jesus Joes. I'm going to take you drinking more often." He finally managed to get out, "You mean that you could still have happily ever after? That your prince charming could still ride in on his white horse and sweep you off your feet?"
I nodded. "Thas what I meant. Thas what I want. Happily ever after."
Matty picked up the second shot and held it to me. I didn't want to drink it. But I lifted it to his glass. "To your happily ever after, Jo."
They say that after the first shot goes down the next isn't as bad. They're wrong. It was terrible. I coughed, trying to keep it down. I grabbed my cup and took a quick sip, trying to get the taste of the shot out of my mouth. Big mistake. Gasoline does not get rid of the taste of diesel, and the two don’t mesh well. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the table. I wasn’t getting sick. I wouldn't let myself get sick.
"Joes?" Matty sounded worried. He'd moved closer, his hand running up and down my spine again. I held up a hand, hoping I was holding up one finger. I just needed a minute. His hand stayed on my back, comforting me. I wasn't sure how long it took, but the nausea finally passed and I sat up. Big mistake. Everything was rotating, so I turned to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arm around me, pulling me tight.
It was nice to have him so close. He smelled heavenly and the world didn't spin so much when I had something to hold on to. From my spot under his arm, I had a perfect view of the dance floor. I watched a cute brunette with red highlights dance with two men, one in front of her, one grabbing her hips from behind. One of those men could be my Mr. Perfect, but as long as a girl that looked like that was an option, neither would look twice at me. Glancing up at Matt, I realized I had never been as honest with him as I had thought, and with all the wisdom of someone that had had more than enough alcohol, I decided to bare my soul.
“I hate her. Dichya know that?” I picked up my right hand, putting it on his belly.
Matty looked down at me and then across the bar searching for whomever I was looking at. “Who?”
“Taylor.” I felt him tense and I knew I needed to get it all out while I was full of liquid courage. “For so many reasons. She’s gorgeous and leggy and smart and funny and everywhere she goes, men adore her. She isn’t a nice person, not really. But, I think I hate her most because she took you.” It was a run together babble, and I wasn't sure he even heard it all.
He was watching me closely, brows knit together. “Took me?”
I sat forward a little and nodded. “Took you. Away from me. You’re going to marry her.” I laughed bitterly. “If she’s going to look like that and act all bitchy, she should at least leave the good guys for the rest of us. It isn’t fair. How many more nights like this do you think we’ll have? You already can’t do Saturday with me. It won’t be long before she has you whipped and you forget about me. She took you, now she has you, and soon I won't have anyone. So, I hate her.”
He looked away then and picked up his beer. “She doesn’t have me Joes.” He took a big
"Happy endings? Really?" He was smirking. "Fine. I'm all for that. To happy endings." His voice was full of humor as he upended the glass. The bastard didn't even cringe.
I glared at him. "That wasn't what I meant and you know it!" I laughed at his sheepish expression. "I meant," emphasizing meant, "that my white prince could still come and knock me off my feet with his horse."
Matty didn't even try to hide his amusement. I tried to glare at him again, but his shoulders were shaking with laughter and I couldn't help but join him. "Oh, Jesus Joes. I'm going to take you drinking more often." He finally managed to get out, "You mean that you could still have happily ever after? That your prince charming could still ride in on his white horse and sweep you off your feet?"
I nodded. "Thas what I meant. Thas what I want. Happily ever after."
Matty picked up the second shot and held it to me. I didn't want to drink it. But I lifted it to his glass. "To your happily ever after, Jo."
They say that after the first shot goes down the next isn't as bad. They're wrong. It was terrible. I coughed, trying to keep it down. I grabbed my cup and took a quick sip, trying to get the taste of the shot out of my mouth. Big mistake. Gasoline does not get rid of the taste of diesel, and the two don’t mesh well. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the table. I wasn’t getting sick. I wouldn't let myself get sick.
"Joes?" Matty sounded worried. He'd moved closer, his hand running up and down my spine again. I held up a hand, hoping I was holding up one finger. I just needed a minute. His hand stayed on my back, comforting me. I wasn't sure how long it took, but the nausea finally passed and I sat up. Big mistake. Everything was rotating, so I turned to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arm around me, pulling me tight.
It was nice to have him so close. He smelled heavenly and the world didn't spin so much when I had something to hold on to. From my spot under his arm, I had a perfect view of the dance floor. I watched a cute brunette with red highlights dance with two men, one in front of her, one grabbing her hips from behind. One of those men could be my Mr. Perfect, but as long as a girl that looked like that was an option, neither would look twice at me. Glancing up at Matt, I realized I had never been as honest with him as I had thought, and with all the wisdom of someone that had had more than enough alcohol, I decided to bare my soul.
“I hate her. Dichya know that?” I picked up my right hand, putting it on his belly.
Matty looked down at me and then across the bar searching for whomever I was looking at. “Who?”
“Taylor.” I felt him tense and I knew I needed to get it all out while I was full of liquid courage. “For so many reasons. She’s gorgeous and leggy and smart and funny and everywhere she goes, men adore her. She isn’t a nice person, not really. But, I think I hate her most because she took you.” It was a run together babble, and I wasn't sure he even heard it all.
He was watching me closely, brows knit together. “Took me?”
I sat forward a little and nodded. “Took you. Away from me. You’re going to marry her.” I laughed bitterly. “If she’s going to look like that and act all bitchy, she should at least leave the good guys for the rest of us. It isn’t fair. How many more nights like this do you think we’ll have? You already can’t do Saturday with me. It won’t be long before she has you whipped and you forget about me. She took you, now she has you, and soon I won't have anyone. So, I hate her.”
He looked away then and picked up his beer. “She doesn’t have me Joes.” He took a big
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