Written With Hearts

Written With Hearts - Chapter Seventeen

Abby.....

Perching ourselves on the highest of barstools, probably wasn't such a good idea. After a few too many cocktails, KC and I are pissed and loudly reminiscing about our times at secondary school. "Remember that time when we were all stupidly sat around the goal posts? We thought it would be great to sit there, because we could watch the boys play football. Only, we didn't bank on them scoring goals, did we? When that ball got kicked into your face, I thought you'd lost a bloody tooth?" KC leans across to me, giggling into my lap.

I'm laughing at the memory, pushing KC back into her precarious position on her stool. "I thought I had, too. You were laughing so much, you nearly choked on your tuna sandwich!" I playfully hit her knee, pretending to still be cross with her.

KC's face screws up a little, still laughing. "You were such a bitch over that! You didn't speak to me all week because I laughed," she reminds me with a playful, dirty look.

I chuckle, nodding. "I was bleeding, and you were rolling around on the grass in hysterics. The boys were more worried about me than you were!"

KC throws her arms around me, teasing me with a drunken slur. "Awwwww . . . poor Abby!"

I cuddle her back, worried that if I don't, she just might fall. She's zealously rocking me in her limp arms, dangerously from side to side. "We are going to fall from these damn stools in a minute, stop rocking!" I tease, pulling myself out of her drunken hold.

"Oh, just shut up and have another cocktail." She blinks slowly, swiping at my arm.

I drink up the last of my cosmopolitan, keen to have another one. With my lips around the edge of my sophisticated glass, I spot a couple of guys staring at KC and me from the end of the bar. I don't hold their interested stare for too long, I just look away as I carefully place my glass back down onto the trendy bar.

The thing is, KC and I are used to a little male attention. We have long, blonde hair and pretty nice breasts. So we are used to being eyed up. In the past, I sometimes cared for it. I guess, on occasion, it did serve a purpose for my deflated ego and zero confidence. Now though, it means absolutely nothing. No one compares to Yate. He's a gorgeous man, inside and out. There is no one in this world that can make me feel the way that he does . . . no one.

"You're thinking about Yate, aren't you?" KC suddenly interrupts my swooning thoughts of him.

I blink, slightly shaking my woozy head. "Uh . . . what?" I ask, feeling slightly out of it.

She looks at me, her head tilted slightly with a knowing but small smile sitting on her pretty face. "Yate . . . you're thinking about him?"

I shyly lower my lashes, embarrassed about being blatantly caught out. "Are you psychic?" I ask, smirking with an amused frown.

"It's bloody obvious, hun! You practically have The Carpenters in full surround sound, and you get this dreamy, distant look on your face." She sits straight, pushing her intoxicated shoulders back as she smirks back at me.

I wince, numbly embarrassed. "Am I really that obvious?" I ask with my chin dipped and my knees pulled together on the stool, as I shyly shrug.

KC laughs, hitting me lightly on my arm. "Hell yeah!"

My intoxicated face contorts, mortified by the knowledge that I do indeed look just like a lovesick fool. "Ugh! I'm sorry!" I over dramatically apologise, hiding my face behind my hands.

KC pulls my hands right away from my face, laughing. "Don't you dare apologise, I think it's great that you're falling for someone."

My eyes dart to hers, apprehensively answering. "You think I'm falling for Yate?" I dumbly ask.