Page 93 of Blue

Sarah suggested it. Right?

Shit.

Blue forgot who had brought it up after the third drink and fourth shot. Or was it the third shot and the fourth drink? She’d lost count.

It didn’t matter. At some point, her friend had begun mixing random booze with blue curacao. Together, they gave each drink some wonky name, and they gulped it down.

Some concoctions tasted nasty as shit. They drank them anyway.

Apparently, Blue and Sarah didn’t want there to be any alcohol left in the clubhouse. Either that or they didn’t want to leave any possibilities unexplored.

At some point, a prospect took over mixing their drinks. Maybe because Sarah was getting heavy on the pours. Or it could have been when she threw bottles in the air and forgot to catch them.

At least he was hot.

Was he hot?

Hell, two hours in, who knew? Who cared? It was a night to let loose and not give a tiny rat’s hairy ass about anything.

Swaying in the open space to the beat of twocolors version of “Lovefool,” Blue lost herself. She and Sarah had taken over the music selection as well. Bikers be damned.

Thankfully, no one seemed to mind. That and there weren’t that many people hanging around the clubhouse, anyway.

Blue needed this. She needed to just forget the chaos of the past few weeks and have a good time with her best friend. Getting back to how she wound up there and the fun she used to have before everything got complicated and turned to shit.

Besides, she had a new lease on life. She’d cheated death. That should be celebrated. Running her hand along the underside of the length, she flicked her hair upward and away from her balmy neck to accent her internal monologue.

Grinning, she turned to find her friend writhing with the music. Blue leaned against her. Probably too much. She may have needed her friend to stay upright. Blue wrapped her arms around Sarah’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Blue slurred into her friend’s ear.

“For what?” Sarah asked over the music.

“Getting me drunk.” Blue pushed off her friend and resumed her wiggle dancing.

Taking a sip from her blue cup, she guessed to be a Blue Hawaiian from the pineapple juice and coconut combination, she smiled. At least this one tasted good.

Sarah bopped her head left and then right before she turned away.

Blue spun around a little as she danced. She probably shouldn’t have done that. Filled with regret, she paused and placed a hand on her head. Closing her eyes, she waited for the floor to quit wobbling and return to its level state.

Maybe she’d had enough to drink. She glanced into her cup and guessed there to be about three quarters of a drink left. She hated to waste good booze. There were rules against that somewhere. There had to be.

“You okay?” Sarah asked.

Holding up a hand, Blue forced a smile.

“Yep,” she said and tried to merge the double image of her friend while sniggering. “Just had a moment where the floor was out to get me.”

Sarah giggled which only made Blue’s chuckles more intense.

“I love the way you laugh.” She’d know his voice, drunk, sober, over music, or in the quietest room in the world. His timbre stroked her soul. The hint of a smile in his words strained her heart.

No one sounded like him.

Her throat became the Sahara.

Her friend shrank backward, mouthing “sorry” and “don’t hate me” while she held her hands up in the shape of a heart. Before Sarah turned toward the bar, she mouthed, “I love you,” and she was gone.

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