RILEY
"I haven't drank this much in years," Brynn shouts to me. Which is totally unnecessary because I'm standing only a foot away. While it is loud in this place, it's not impossible to hear. "Is it drank or drunk? I never remember my grammar."
She collapses into giggles and smacks me on the butt.
"Easy now," I say.
We're both pretty drunk. Even though I had a head start on her, somehow she not only caught up, but surpassed me, and now she's swaying. Barely able to stand on her feet. Thank God for these barstools.
"Is being drunk a bad thing?" ask of the two guys who bought us drinks earlier. His name is Matt, and his friend's name is Austin. They both guffaw in that way guys do when they're around women and think they're adorably incompetent.
Gabriel never did that.
"On a Friday night in Florida? No way," Brynn says, then downs a shot that one of the guys bought.
They'd actually bought several, and they're all lined up, tiny glasses filled with green liquor. Brynn, Matt, and Austin had bought them while I was in the bathroom, so I wasn't part of this terrible decision.
Matt seems quite interested in Brynn, which normally wouldn't bother me. But that's putting pressure on Austin and me, and I'm not prepared for anything involving the opposite sex tonight.
I can't say the same for Austin, though.
I take a shot glass off the bar and toss it back.
Immediately upon swallowing, I grimace and stick my tongue out. The shot is syrupy and bitter, with notes of licorice and fennel. It hits my stomach and immediately starts fighting with the tequila and rum already residing there.
"Oh, fuck, what was that?"
"That was heaven!" Brynn says, reaching for another shot.
"I think I'm going to stop drinking," I declare to no one in particular. The bar has become uncomfortably warm, probably because the crowd has doubled in what seems like a matter of minutes. Then again, I have no idea how long I've been here.
Could be a half hour, could be five. Time is irrelevant. There's everything that happened before I saw Gabriel at Catherine's gallery, and the dismal moments since.
I shoot a withering look at Austin, who's staring at me with all the eagerness of a Labrador retriever. A retriever with too much hair gel. Poor dude. He's cute and probably doesn't deserve my sour snark.
"So you're a reporter. That's really cool," he shouts.
His enthusiasm is way too much for me to deal with.
"Why is everyone shouting?" I grumble, then take a sip of my now-watery margarita. I've lost count of how many I've had. So much for not drinking anymore.
"What do you write about?" Austin yells.
Maybe I have superhuman hearing and I'm being unreasonably sensitive. "Art. Music. Fluff."
He nods thoughtfully. "I don't read the news. Or read at all."
"Great." I paste on a plastic smile.
But even if Austin was a contender — which he isn't, even for a one-night rebound, no matter how much Brynn nudges me in that direction — the fact that he doesn't read disqualifies him from my hookup pool.
Don't fuck a man who doesn't read, has always been my motto.
The thought only makes me think of Gabriel, and how he'd consume books in his spare time. How we'd cuddle in bed and each crack open a book, how we'd sit by the pool and talk about what we were reading, how he had an entire library at his disposal...
"Do you read a lot?" Austin asks.
I stare at him, not sure whether I should laugh or cry. I answer in the affirmative.
"It seems like a waste of time to me." He shakes his head.
This should be my cue to stumble to the door and grab a taxi. Go home, pass out, nurse a massive hangover tomorrow. Lie around in pain and misery, thinking about Gabriel.
I eye Austin. Yeah, misery at home would be better than this.
Brynn thwacks me on the arm. "Matt is in finance!"
She says this like it's the most scintillating detail, and looks as though she's impressed. Yeah, there's no way I can leave her here with these guys. Before tonight, I'd thought Brynn was down-to-earth and mellow.
Little did I know that booze brought out the ditz in her. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but as the night grinds on, I'm beginning to tire of everything.
Plus my head's starting to pound.
The band starts up again. They're not a terrible version of The Killers, and maybe I'd enjoy it more if I were sober. Or with Gabriel.
But there will be no more enjoying anything with Gabriel.
I finish my margarita and I've no sooner swallowed the final sip when Austin asks me if I want another.
"Definitely not." I wipe my mouth on my sleeve because the drunker I get, the classier I am.
"Want to go dance?" Austin points to a small space in front of the band.
I look sourly at the people gyrating. If I dance, maybe I'll sweat, and if I sweat, I'll get some of this alcohol out of my system.
"Let's go," I say, pulling him toward the front of the room. Brynn and Matt whoop and follow us.
"See how much better this is?" Brynn hollers over the music. "You're with people your own age and not some old mafia guy!"
I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and turn away from her so I can shake my hips to the beat.
So I can try to forget.
We dance for a few songs, and Austin seems harmless. He's not trying to grind on me, or even get that close. This isn't so awful, but it doesn't feel good, either. I zone out while swaying to the music and successfully block everything but the strobe lights whizzing around the room.
The band's actually pretty good. I'll have to find out their name.
A random thought pops into my head — I can't wait to tell Gabriel about this band — then I stop.
My God, Gabriel.
I don't know if it's the booze or the realization that he could be fucking Catherine at this very moment, but it's like a brick has settled in my stomach.
I can't do this. Can't be here in public with other humans. I stop dancing, and the world spins for a moment.
Oh shit. I'm drunk.
"I have to go to the bathroom," I slur to Austin.
It comes out as "Ihaftagoooootothebafrooom."
He holds his hands in the air and does a little hip thrust in my direction in response.
"Charming." I follow that up with a burp, then a giggle.
My gazillion drinks have caught up to me, and now it's time to pay. Bathroom. Need the bathroom.
I lose my footing as soon as I take a step, and topple into Austin, who tries to help me but instead grabs my boobs.
"Asshole," I shriek. "Stop groping me."
"C'mere. You know you want it."
I push him off me and stumble forward, into the crowd.
Everyone's bouncing around, their arms and legs moving in a blur. The drumbeat is so loud that I can feel it in my sternum. Every beat is a regret.
For drinking too much.
For coming to Florida.
For getting involved with Gabriel, knowing he'd break my heart.
I feel a hand on my forearm, and I whirl, anger rising inside me. Austin has turned from a semi-pleasant drinking partner to an all-out sexual harasser. My right fist is cocked and ready.
"Austin, go fuck yourself," I cry.
Then I swing — right toward Gabriel's nose.
He easily grabs my wrist.
"What are you doing here?"
"Taking you home."
For a split second, we freeze. He's holding my arm in mid-air, and I'm gaping, open mouthed. It would be comical if I wasn't so pissed.
Or so drunk.
"Oh, hell no," I say, and try to wrench my wrist out of his grip.
He's too strong, or too sober, and I'm no match for him. He's towering over me, and I'm reminded of his sheer physical presence.
He pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. I'm shocked he's come to this crowded bar, and I look around, wondering if anyone's staring.
"Nobody here knows you," I slur drunkenly.
"I know, babe. Let's leave. We can talk in the car, or at my house, or yours. I need to explain a lot to you." He eases his grip on me while fixing his gaze on my face.
"Yeah, I don't think so. You showing up at Catherine's today explained everything." I sneer and nearly fall over.
"You're in no shape for this. Come on. We're leaving, now."
"The hell we are."
I stiffen. He looks especially delicious tonight, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt. Although he doesn't look much older than the others at this bar — and he's not dressed all that differently — there's a seriousness about him. An edge.
One that drives me positively wild, even when it shouldn't.
"Did you go home and change after you spent the night with Catherine?" I spit.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Riley. Please. I don't want to make a scene."
"No, of course you don't. Gabriel Greco doesn't want to—"
He wraps a strong arm around me and propels me in the direction of the door. I can tell he's done with my antics.
But I'm not going anywhere until he explains why he was at Catherine's gallery. Why he's been lying to me. If he's been having sex with her.
"Nope, I'm an angry Irish woman and I'm not going anywhere." I stomp my foot and catch Brynn's eye. She winces and shakes her head.
"You're coming with me. Now."
"No!" I shout.
A tendon pops out in his neck, and for a second, I'm sure he's going to physically pick me up and carry me outside.
But he slowly releases me. "We're leaving. Together."
"No, we're not. I'm not going anywhere with you." I push my way forward, trying to work my way to the edge of the dance floor.
Gabriel follows, and once again reaches for me. His smell, his body, his warmth — it's all too much for me to resist and I'm shaking in his arms.
Gabriel caresses my back. The sensation of his gentle, yet firm, touch sends waves of desire coursing through me. The feeling is impossible to resist, and yet, I'm trying. Trying so hard, because I know he's wrong in every way for me.
I try to wriggle away from him, but he holds me tighter.
"Go. Away." I scrunch my eyes shut.
"Babe," he says, and suddenly I realize the band's not playing, and there is only the burble of conversation all around us. My eyes peel open in time to see a familiar guy standing there, fuming.
"Hey. Asshole. Leave her alone," Austin growls, trying to appear menacing but instead looking like a baby otter with his slicked-back hair. "I saw her first, we've been hanging out all night."
Oh, shit. This has all the makings of a disaster.
I can't see Gabriel's expression, but I can feel every muscle in his body tense.
"Riley?" Gabriel purrs in my ear, in a voice that indicates he's fed up, a tone I've never heard before. "I've had a long night and have already rearranged someone's kneecaps with a baseball bat. So if you don't want me to beat this asshole's face until it looks like it's been through a meat grinder, I suggest you tell him to leave us the fuck alone. Then we're going to walk out that door. As a couple, which is what we are."