Y/n's phone vibrated in her pocket, and she knew it would be Sylvester trying to get ahold of her for the 15th time that day. He was using the same old excuses as every other guy in history. It's not what it looked like. We didn't do anything. I promise. Blah. Blah. Blah.
He was wearing a towel. She was wearing negligee, and he had the look of guilt on his face. No. She wasn't going to even grace him with a response. The cab stopped in front of the bar and the two of them climbed out.
"I'm going to have a Pina colada," Becky announced.
"I need a long island."
"I'll grab the drinks. Why don't you go secure a table by the pool table. We can have ourselves a game."
It's been at least a year since she's played pool, but couldn't wait to take out some of her frustration on the balls, pretending that they were his that she was knocking down a hole, one sack at a time.
Oh gosh, she didn't really think that did she? She could only hope that she didn't say her thoughts out loud. That was a bad habit of hers. Her face burned with embarrassment as she glanced around her immediate area. She breathed a sigh of relief. No one was looking at her funny.
Wasn't long before Becky returned with their drinks, and they sat down to bury their sorrows in the bottom of a glass. Y/n took in her surroundings as was the curse of being a writer. She loved to people watch and currently there were three guys by the other pool table next to them, huddled on the far side of their table, like they were telling some big fancy secret.
Becky waved a hand in front of her face, trying to get her attention again. "So spill it, Y/n. What happened to Mr. Stud?"
After taking a long sip of her drink, Y/n glanced over at the boys returning to their pool game. "He's a cheater." Why was it that any time she put herself out there the guy turned out to be a dick?
Sylvester was going to go right from one woman's arms to hers, like it meant nothing to him. But it meant more to her, probably more than it should, and she was not going to be put through that.
"Want me to beat him up for you?" Becky asked.
"Wouldn't do any good, I doubt."
"Men almost make me want to become a lesbian. We're good enough to fuck, but not good enough to marry."
Her voice was just loud enough to catch the men's attention at the pool table, and they glanced in the girls direction, expressions full of interest. Y/n blushed. It's not exactly a topic that should be broadcasted to the entire world. Taking the straw between her lips, Y/n downed half of her drink in one gulp, so was the beauty of a long island iced tea. It had no bite so it was like drinking juice.
She just wanted to forget about the whole Sylvester sex thing. Maybe even forget all about her book. There was no way she could continue writing it now, it would just remind her too much of him. Unless she made him a bad guy. She chuckled. That would teach him!
