Page 12 of Burn for You

“A competition?” Isla’s voice echoes through the bar as the bell above the door jingles. She walks in, followed by all of the guys—Leo, Heath, Caio, and of course, Rafael. In the four months that we’ve been living here, Isla has managed to get every single one of those men wrapped around her little finger. It’s comical, really.

“A drinking competition.”

Isla frowns. “Marina, you’ll be out by the first round, babe.”

Marina gasps, throwing the rag she was holding across the bar hitting Isla. “Take it back.”

Isla just laughs as Caio wraps his arms around her middle. “Marina, in all the years I’ve known you I’ve never seen you last more than three drinks before you’re on the floor,” he says.

“Okay, I’m gonna prove you all wrong.” She turns around, stepping onto the sliding ladder behind the bar and reaching for a bottle of liquor off the top shelf. The good stuff.

Nora and Vanessa come over to the bar with the rest of us to get in on the action. Everyone else has cleared out of the bar for the night, it’s Tuesday so not many people are out for a late night.

“Okay,” she sets the bottle of clear alcohol on the bar. “Let’s do it like this. You take a shot. You walk along the bar.”

Leo barks out a laugh. “This is going to end so badly, I’m in.”

“Whoever makes the most trips across wins. Simple.” She pulls out shot glasses from under the bar. “How many am I pouring?”

I laugh as we file into a single file line at the end of the bar. Walking across the bar includes climbing up onto the bar top and jumping off the other end. I can already see the many ways this could go wrong, but there’s no way I am sitting this one out. Especially not after my poor attempt at corn hole over the weekend. Seriously though, who is good at corn hole? It’s not like I practice on the weekends like Rafaelapparentlydoes.

Vanessa and Nora sit at a table where they’ll be keeping track of how many laps everyone has done. Heath sits at the table beside them, not wanting to get involved in this one, and Caio sitswith him, volunteering himself as the designated driver. The distance isn’t the problem, but herding all of our drunk asses home is.

Vanessa gets up to click the jukebox on in the corner, and Italian music floats through the bar.

“Ready?” she asks. A collection of nods answers her. “Three…two…one, go!”

Marina starts, taking a shot and boosting herself up onto the bar, basically running across it before jumping off the end. This round is simple for all of us as the shots won’t kick in for another couple of rounds. We all glide along the bar top with ease for the first few rounds, us girls cheering as we go.

By the time we reach four shots, Marina is wobbly as she walks along the bar top, and Isla and I are giggly as we watch her.

Rafael is as steady as a rock, as if he’s not even touched the shots. He jumps off the end of the bar, a smug look on his face that I just want to wipe straight off. I’m still pissed about our game of corn hole. The thought of his arrogant comments fuel me as I boost across the bar after my fifth shot.

Isla is up next, and Caio comes up beside the bar, walking alongside her, ready to catch her if she falls. It’s disgustingly sweet.

Leo zooms across the bar with light feet that travel in a not-so-straight line, but he makes it across, nonetheless.

Marina’s up. She takes her fifth shot with a screwed-up face and struggles to get up on the bar. Caio is back beside the bar, looking over his cousin as she wobbles. Her arms are out as she slowly makes her way across. Everyone is yelling, a mix between encouraging shouts and friendly taunts as she sways. And then she drops and lands on her hands and knees. A collection of oohs echo through the empty bar. She crawls a few inches forward before she taps out.

“Too dizzy,” she slurs as Caio grabs her hand from the end of the bar and helps her down to the ground safely.

“You did better than I expected!” I yell to her. Isla laughs frombeside me as Marina throws us a weak thumbs up. She plants her ass on a chair beside Heath as he pours her a pint of water from the jug beside him.

“And then there were four,” Leo yells before he takes his sixth shot, pushing himself up and over the bar.

We go for two more rounds before Caio has to give Isla a piggyback off the bar because she can barely move to get down.

Leo bows out at eight shots as well, leaving just me and Rafael, and like hell am I going to lose to him.

I take shot after shot, losing count of the number we are up to. When Rafael smirks at me after every round he successfully gets through, it just gives me more ammunition to keep going. No matter the fact that my stomach feels so full, the shots don’t even feel like they’re making it all the way down anymore.

This dickhead isnotwinning.

I reach for another shot, but my hand is blurry. I squint my eyes, willing them to focus. I use my other hand to guide this one to grab the little glass. I empty the liquid into my mouth. A droplet escapes my mouth and slides its way down my chin. I use my sleeve to wipe it away before I place my palms on the bar top to push myself up. I barely have the strength, but somehow, I get myself up there and stand up on wobbly feet.

Woah.

I throw my arms out to the side, trying to keep my balance.

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