Page 132 of Snap Shot

“Yeah, baby. You taste way better.” I throw a glance back, poking my tongue into the corner of my mouth. Those cheeks glow pink with a blush. My heart beats faster.We approach and stop at another red light, and I reach back, searching for the edge of her pant leg. Her foot dangles in the air from the way her knees cross and gives me a playful kick. When my fingers find the smooth skin above her ankles, they slide up, tracing the gentle curve of her calf and soaking in all that softness.

Indi drawls, “What are you doing?”

“I like the way you feel,” I reply, my voice lowering to a hoarse whisper while checking her reaction in the rearview mirror. “Not being able to touch you is torture.”

Goosebumps lift on her legs to meet my fingertips. Indi doesn't flinch or break our eye contact. “It's green.”

I blink twice. “What?”

Her tone continues in its flat delivery. “The light's green.”

“Okay.Oh!” The lull splits when I hit the gas by instinct. I don't let go of her like a selfish bastard, mesmerized by the relaxation her touch provides, and nearly veer off into the next lane.

“Whoa.Easy. The map says we're almost there. On the right.”

I slam on the brakes almost as hard as the gas pedal, tires screeching to the curb. In neon signage, the wordMuzzy'slights the awning and I vaguely recognize the dive bar's orange string lights hanging from the enclosed patio space in front. It's been a few years and I'm sure I was hammered, but I've been here.

A remixed version of Kelly Clarkson's “Since You've Been Gone” streams into the car as Indi climbs out from the passenger side, feet first. She salutes me. “Thank you, my good man.” Her head pokes back in through the half-closed door. “Where are you off to now?”

“To rescue Fletch.” I wave my phone at her. “Poor bastard's been texting me nonstop.”

“Have fun!” she sings.

I lower the bill of my hat. “You, too. Be safe, okay?”

Indi smirks and props a hand on her cocked hip. “Want me to text you when I get home?”

“Yes, please.” My lower lip juts out.

She predictably rolls those pretty round eyes. “Fine.See ya.”

I steer away from the sidewalk and check my phone at the light on the next block.

Me:Where are you?

Fletch:Some overpacked hole-in-the-wall where the music is too loud, and the women keep asking if I wanna dance. I don't wanna dance.

Me:Name?

Fletch:Muzzy's.

You don't say.I smile to myself and take the right to loop around the block.

Me:On my way, brother.

The musty hardwood inside Muzzy's holds onto the smell of spilled beer and piss. I find my teammates at the back of the bar, surrounded by a crowd. Fletch looks miserable sandwiched between two blondes, peer-pressured into taking shots with Wade. He winces at the end of his drink as Wade puts on the dramatics, whooping and hollering alongside these puck bunnies. I clap a hand on his back to let him know I'm here.

“Oh, thankfuck,” he pulls me into a hug. “Get me out of this place. If I have to take another sip of this god-awful—”

“Landy!” Wade shouts through cupped hands over the cheering and music. “Get your ass over here!”

I throw him an acknowledging bro nod and hold a hand up. There's no way I'm taking shots tonight with this fool.

“I need to piss,” Fletch grumbles. “If I'm not back in ten minutes, send a rescue squad. It'll mean one of these ladies has cornered me in a stall and I’m fighting for my life.” He turns on his heel, disappearing between two large beer-bellied men.

Wade loudly boos my rejection of his offer. “Prude!” His eyes wander to the staircase leading to the upper level. “No way. No fucking way!” He giggles and wrings his hands together. “Your hot lawyer's here. And she's brought hot friends.”

Indi, mini-Indi, and Bea descend the steps.

---