Page 14 of Drunk Girl

“Okay,” I say, as I take a moment to read over the menu board again. “Since they offer a split bucket, I guess I’ll try the mild and the Parmesan Garlic.”

“Are you good with Bud or do you want an IPA?”

“I’m good with whatever, plus a glass of water, please.”

“You got it,” he says as we step forward and place our order with the cashier. She sets the pitcher of beer, glasses of water, and cups for the beer in front of us, along with a number tent to place on our table.

“Do you want to sit outside?” he asks, nodding his head to a door I didn’t even notice off the back of the small dining area.

“Sure.” I pick up the glasses and pitcher of beer before he can.

I lead the way to the patio area, and we find a smaller table in the corner. Thankfully, the patio is covered, so it provides shade from the bright sun.

“So, are you from Nashville?” he asks, once we’re settled at the table and he’s poured a glass of beer for each of us.

“We moved here from Memphis when I was a toddler, so it’s all I’ve ever known. My mom has actually lived in the same apartment now for the last ten or so years. Only stable thing in my life has been that apartment.” I’m starting to ramble. “What about you?” I ask, trying to turn the conversation off my lackluster life.

“Born and raised,” he says, taking a drink of his beer. “My parents still live just on the outskirts of town, as do both sets of my grandparents.”

“Are you close, then, with your family?”

“Yes, very. I obviously see my brother and sister-in-law every day, since we own the bar together. But I see my parents and grandparents weekly, or every other week. Not enough, if you ask my mom, but it is what it is. We try really hard to have a weekly family dinner, but with the bar, sometimes that doesn’t work out. What about you, do you have much family in the area?”

“Nope,” I say, popping the P. I don’t elaborate as our food is delivered at that moment.

“Can I get either of you anything else?” the young boy asks.

“I think we’re good for now, thanks,” Nick answers him. “You were saying,” he says, bringing the conversation right back as we both look at the food delivered.

“Just my mom and me. My dad left the picture when I was a baby, I wasn’t old enough to remember him. Since then, it’s just been a string of one bad relationship to the next for my mom. Not the best role model when it came to what a healthy relationship should look like. Probably why I have a bad habit of picking the ones I do. So, please tell me you’re not one of the bad ones?” I say, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

Laughing, Nick looks up from his food and directly at me. His laughter has the sexiest dimples popping out on both of his cheeks that have my insides turning to mush as I look across the table at him. “I’d like to think I’m one of the good ones.”

“Phew!” I say, exaggerating the word as I swipe my hand across my forehead. “I guess we can continue this date then. Wait. This is a date, yes?” I ask, hoping I didn’t make this more than he was intending it to be.

That damn laugh and those dimples again. “Yes, it’s a date. I guess I really should have thought ahead about where I was bringing you.” He looks around at the dive of a place we’re at, then down at the food on the table. “Not the best choice for a first date,” he says, grimacing.

“It’s perfect! I’d much rather be here where we can be laid-back than at some stuffy steakhouse. This is much more my speed.” I pick up a wing, looking it over before I sink my teeth into it. The flavor bursts on my tongue and I moan at how amazing it tastes. “Holy shit, you weren’t joking. These are the best I’ve ever tasted,” I tell him as I drop the bones in the empty bucket on the table and pick up another one, this time from the other flavor section.

“Glad you like it here,” he says as he digs in to his own bucket.

Nick is so easy to talk to, and our conversation flows as we both demolish our respective buckets of wings along with the pitcher of beer. I find myself opening up more with him than I have with any other guy I’ve dated, and this is only our first date.

7

Nick

Sittingacross this little table from Ashley, I watch as she drinks her beer and eats her wings. Coming here was a bad fucking idea. Each moan she makes as she eats has my dick pressing harder and harder against the zipper of my jeans. I didn’t realize eating some chicken wings and drinking beer could get me so hard. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to come here again without this memory coming back to me.

Our conversation has been easy; something I’ve never experienced with women I’ve dated in the past. Everything always felt forced or fake. There are only a few women in my life I’ve been able to talk to with ease—three of them, I’m blood-related to and the other is married to my brother, so definitely not anyone I’d be pursuing a relationship with.

“Have you paid much thought to returning to school and finishing your degree?” I ask once we’ve both finished our meals.

“Not really. I’d have to take out more loans to pay for it, and trying to juggle classes and work full-time doesn’t sound appealing to me right now. I’m already a mess, I can’t imagine how bigger of a mess I’d be if I added that into the mix. Plus, I didn’t have the best experience when I was in college before,” she says, and I notice right away her demeanor change as she mentions it.

“What happened to make it a bad experience?” I ask.

She looks around and bites her lip, stalling answering my question.

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