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"Are you sure this is the place?” Liv grabbed my hand in her tiny palm and stared up at the plain brick building. I glanced at piece of paper that held the address the hotel concierge had written down for us. Having just gotten into town a couple of hours ago, we wanted to grab a bite to eat before heading out for a night on the town. Finding a restaurant was the easy part; finding a club that didn’t scream that we were from out of town was another story.

“It’s the right address.” I shrugged my shoulders, pulling Liv towards the front door. There was no line waiting to get inside, there were no security guards checking ID’s at the door, in fact, there wasn’t much life surrounding the place at all. But once we stepped inside, we were met with a crowd of young people, all dancing to the house music, decent sized drinks in their hands.

“I guess when they say don’t judge a book by its cover, they’re clearly talking about this place.” Liv mumbled. I heard myself chuckle before spotting a couple of empty stools at the end of the bar. Pointing to the seats, Liv nodded before taking off to grab them before anyone else did. Sliding into the seat, I plopped my clutch onto the sticky bar top and turned to face my best friend. This girls’ weekend had been planned (and needed) for months. We placed our orders with the bored looking bartender, hoping that her lack of enthusiasm wouldn’t hinder our ability to get white girl wasted.

“Okay, Liv. Spill.” I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on in her very busy life, but I knew that something was bothering her. And had been for weeks.

She sighed, looking down as she twisted the ring on her left ring finger. “Jackson and I have been fighting more than usual.”

“And by fighting you mean…?”

“Screaming matches. Breaking glasses against the wall. Someone sleeping in the guest room kind of fighting.” I could see the tears welling up in her hazel eyes, but I waited for her to continue. We’d been friends for twenty two years; I knew when she needed a lecture and when she really just needed to work through her thoughts out loud. I was betting on the latter in this case. “I just get so sick of him refusing to help with Evan. I understand that he works full-time and goes to school, but I still need him to be a dad, ya know?”

Liv and Jackson had gotten married a few years back, and although they were both in their mid twenties when they took the plunge, they still had issues they had to work out. Bringing Evan, their 18-month-old son, into the mix had only complicated matters, unfortunately. And while I’d never been Jackson’s biggest fan, if he made my best friend happy, that was all I could ask for.

But sometimes, they made the whole concept of marriage look absolutely terrifying.

“He loves you, Livi. He loves Evan, too. You know that.”

“This isn’t an issue of whether or not he loves us, Logan. I know he loves us. But I need him to just be around more. Even when he’s home, he’s not really.” She took a huge gulp of her Jack and Coke before searching through her purse for something. Pulling out her phone, lighting up and ringing, she rolled her eyes. “And apparently his ears were burning. I’ve got to take this or he’ll just keep calling. I’ll be right back.” Sliding off the stool, I watched as Liv fought her way back out through the front door. She hadn’t given Jackson much of a choice when it had come to this weekend.

I was there when she’d told him that we were leaving for three days and he would just have to suck it up and take care of Evan all by himself. He wasn’t overly pleased at the idea, but I think he’d realized she needed this. Maybe more than ever. I spun back around, hoping to catch the bartender’s attention with little effort. If we were going to continue this intense conversation, I was going to need to get very drunk, very fast. Liv had always joked that I did my best counseling when I was shit faced. I found the bartender, standing right in front of me, her mouth hanging open and her eyes bugged out. If she’d looked bored earlier, she looked terrified now.

Turning around to see what was causing such a strong reaction, I laughed quietly to myself before snapping my fingers in front of her face.

“Excuse me.” Nothing. No eye twitch, no flicker of her gaze to where I was sitting, nothing. I leaned to my right slightly, trying to read her tiny name tag. “April.” Silence. “Oh honey, he’s just a boy. Ask him what he wants to drink, and quickly, so that I can get a refill.”

She still refused to acknowledge me, or the guy standing behind me. I twisted around to face him, trailing my gaze up from his t-shirt covered stomach to catch his eye. He wore an irritated expression all over his ridiculously good looking face.

“What drink are you trying to order from this nice, but silent, young lady?”

“Eh?” Ah, British accents. A universally attractive quality.

“What. Do. You. Want. To. Drink?” His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. He might have been ruggedly handsome with an accent to die for, but apparently he got skipped over in the brains department. I made a gesture that was supposed to resemble drinking out of a glass.

“Uh, Vodka Sprite.”

Nodding, I got up out of my seat, and stood in front of him so that our bartender had no other choice but to look at me, which seemed to break her out of her trance. Despite the fact that he was a whole head taller than me. “One Vodka Sprite. One Tom Collins with Gin.” I watched her gaze flick back towards the guy before she turned on her heel to make the drinks. We watched in silence as she dropped a couple of glasses on the tile floor and sprayed another young woman in the chest with Sprite before she finally set the two glasses in front of us. Thankfully, she had embarrassed herself enough to continue down the bar, instead of stopping to stare again.

“She didn’t even tell me how much I owed her.” He muttered.

“With my luck, she’ll just put it on my tab.”

“Well then,” he started as he slid onto Liv’s still empty stool. “I guess I owe you a proper thank you.” Thrusting out his right hand in my direction, I watched as the sour wrinkle line on his forehead disappeared. “Harry.”

“Logan.” I introduced myself, shaking his hand. His fingers were calloused, an obvious sign of the time he spent with his fingers on a guitar string. My entire dating life I’d spent wrapped up in one musician or another. Usually guitar players. Usually singers. Sometimes drummers. It was the raw talent that sucked me into their world. As I’d hit my late twenties, I’d desperately tried to avoid that trap, but I hadn’t been successful yet.

“You’re here by yourself?” He asked.

“My friend is outside on the phone.” I pointed over my shoulder towards the front of the building. His eyebrows scrunched together again.

“Short, blonde hair, wearing some kind of red top?”

I paused to think about what color Liv was wearing, before nodding. “How did you know that?”

“She wasn’t just on the phone when we pulled up. She was screaming at the phone, waving her arms around like a windmill. She got in a cab right as we walked inside.” This time it was my face that was crumpled up in confusion.

“She got in a cab? And left?” He nodded as he took a sip of his drink. I pulled open my clutch and fished around for my phone. Pulling it out and sliding the button on the screen to unlock it, I found three messages from Liv sitting in my inbox.



“Seriously?” I rolled my eyes, rubbing my hands along my forehead in exasperation. Sometimes Liv forgot that she couldn’t just run off and leave whoever was in her path to pick up the pieces. Thankfully I knew how to find a cab, and I wasn’t drunk enough to have forgotten where my hotel was. At least not yet. I finished my Tom Collins off in a couple of large gulps and set the glass on the counter. Typing Liv’s name on my phone, I tried a couple of times to successfully hit the text button.



Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry wave down the mute bartender.

“Can I get another?” He shook his glass back and forth, the ice clinking on the side of the empty container. “And whatever she’s having.” He pointed to my glass sitting on the bar. “And, four shot of tequila.”

I glanced up at him. He stood with his arms braced against the counter and a miscevious grin plastered on his face.

“Your friend just left you at a bar by yourself and no one has recognized me yet. We’re celebrating, sweetheart.” His left eye winked at me.

The bartender returned with our drinks, but before she could turn around to leave, Harry’s hand reached out, grasping onto her arm and stopping her in her tracks.

“Be a love and keep the shots coming.”

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Notes

Thank you so much for giving this new story a shot! This definitely is not my favorite chapter, but it sets up the story well enough. I've got a couple of chapters to update tonight or in the next couple of days, and I'm working on more as we speak. I hope you enjoy it!