Chapter Nineteen: I'm Shivering Like Cousin It At The Sight of a Hairdresser

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Chapter Nineteen: I'm Shivering Like Cousin It At The Sight of a Hairdresser

"Can you still send someone to prison for sexual assault if the person performing said sexual assault is as drunk as my cousin Lou on St. Patrick's Day?"

"You have a cousin named Lou and this is the first time I've heard of him? I'm hurt Beth."

"Trust me Little Red Riding Hood, if I'd ever let him anywhere near you, there wouldn't be enough holy water out there for you to bathe in to get rid of the aftershocks."

"Hey! Boyfriend standing right here, no one's going to touch my little Riding Hood when I'm there."

"Calm your knickers J.Crew . I'm just stating a hypothetical situation where I would never intentionally place Megan in the same vicinity as my relatives, especially cousin Lou. Cousin Lou went to prison and came out as their official hairdresser. He braids the hair of murderers kept in federal prison for fun now. Do you want to go near him?"

"I think Alex would be more his target audience don't you think?"

"Hey! Don't objectify me. I know I'm pretty and all..."

"Babe you're more than just pretty. You're outright dreamy and tough, like my very own Hercules."

"Thanks Meg, you always know how to make those pretty boy complexes go away."

"Everybody shut up! Don't you see she's trying to climb over the bar now?"

Ah, I've been spotted. I slink back into my seat, bar climbing efforts having been thwarted. What are we even doing in a bar? No one except Travis can legally drink and putting alcohol near him would probably be as sensitive as telling Kylie Jenner she has daddy issues...you just don't do that and still call yourself a decent human being people.

But somehow we're in this low key pub and I'm on my third drink of God knows what, but I told the bartender to give me something strong enough that I wouldn't want to bury my head in the sand for the rest of my life by remembering the things I do tonight.

The man did good and I rewarded him by trying to tackle him into a completely socially acceptable hug that somehow made security come to the floor and detach us.

Such an overreaction.

"Tessie I think that's enough for tonight, let's go home." My oh so sweet and perfect boyfriend sidles up to me and doesn't flinch even though I must be reeking of alcohol. My fourth drink is in my hand, Vodka with a side of fancy and I don't plan on leaving my spot until all the memories of the prior evening have been obliterated.

"Is the story still going up?"

He's stone faced in response. Ha! Stone faced.

"Is my name, which is obviously linked with yours going to be in some cheap political tabloid making me look like the image of a wholesome All American train wreck?"

Silence.

"I'm not asking you to make it go away Cole. But I'm also not asking you to stop me from reacting because I will react. I will react the shit out of this situation and you will happily let me."

"Tessie I don't think that's such a good idea." He's trying to placate me, I know what placating does. It makes possible epic drunk mistakes turn into a quiet night in, safe boring.

Kind of like I am.

When have I ever done something that doesn't fit into the good girl bracket? My boyfriend had to be sent to military school to have his ways reformed, he's been involved with some pretty shady stuff that caused a scar on his wrist and there's me.

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