Page 16 of Boy Issues

“No more drinks, understand? You’re too upset. If you don’t trust your family’s driver, then get an Uber.” Silver waited a beat then continued, “Take care of yourself.”

Before Donovan could respond, Silver had turned and was making his way swiftly across the room. Donovan dropped his head in his hands, perplexed by what had just happened. Enraged, yes. But also bizarrely sad.

Fuck him.

Why should he care about a stranger’s opinion? What the hell did he know? Silver probably had a family who loved him, didn’t have the important responsibilities that Donovan did, probably didn’t know what it was like to have to be someone you weren’t, to suck up the bullshit every single fucking day and ask for another serving with a smile.

Donovan launched himself from the booth then elected to take a spot at the bar. He wasn’t about to look like some pathetic loser who’d been walked out on, nursing a drink all alone in the back of the local dive.

He caught attention of the bartender. Silver couldn’t tell him what to do, he knew his own limits.

“Another vodka martini, dirty?”

“Yeah. Make it a double.”

Tell me what to do. Ha.

After he’d paid the bartender, Donovan stared into the cloudy liquid. He chewed on his lower lip, his gut clenching.

This is ridiculous.

He lifted the glass, but then set it down—perhaps a bit too hard. Some of the liquid sloshed over the edges and he grumbled beneath his breath, snatching a few cocktail napkins from the holder at the edge of counter. He mopped up the mess then reached for his drink again. After a few seconds with his hand hovering over the drink, he smashed his fist on the bar.

“Goddammit.”

Ignoring the curious stares of the two patrons at the counter and the bartender who’d been talking to them, Donovan pushed off the bar stool then marched out of the bar.

Fuck my life and everyone in it.

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