Page 19 of Three Not-So-Little Words
I saw enough, though. Holy shit, he’s hot.
Hot by Veronica Lawson standards. And that’s saying something. That’s the gold standard of hot.
I’ve been with a decent amount of guys in my time. I’m not going to divulge how many because I don’t remember all of them. I wouldn’t say that I have atypesince I find lots of types attractive.
But I love a man who has some substance to him. One who is able to toss me around and show me a good time. I’ve got some curves, and I appreciate a man who can navigate them without a fucking GPS.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a few glimpses of him. He doesn’t appear to be super tall, but he’s sitting down, so it’s hard to tell. He wears a black t-shirt that perfectly hugs his large chest and thick biceps. Tattoos snake from under the black material all the way down his arms.
He has a short, almost buzzed haircut, and his hair is a dirty blonde. His features are soft aside from his sharp jawline and piercing light blue eyes.
I turn my attention back to the bartender who is almost done with our drinks. I feel the man’s eyes on me. Usually, I would have no problem going over to him and striking up a conversation, but I made a big deal out of this bachelorette party. I can’t just bail–nor would I want to. No matter how hot this guy may be.
But I can still give him a little bit of a show. Resting my elbows on the bar, I lean forward. I know my low-cut top will show off the girls pretty well. I push my long hair behind my shoulder to give an even better angle.
When I was a teenager, I went from thin as a board to an ample chest and ass. With those came a little extra fluff. But I embrace every one of my curves. If I’m too much, they can go find less.
Jo walks to the other side of me.
“Need some help?” She asks.
I’m so caught off-guard that I don’t even process what she just said.
“Huh?”
“Do you need help carrying all the drinks?”
“Oh. Uh, yeah.”
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you being weird?”
Something that Jo and I have in common is that we have no filter. Both of us say what we are thinking. But where my approach is more comparable to the tip of a spear, Jo is more like a blunt ax. She has no finesse.
Which is exactly why it takes her a hot second to pick up on the signals I’m trying to give her.
When she finally figures it out, she leans in close. “Who’s the hottie?” I’m almost positive she says it loud enough for him to hear.
No finesse at all.
Thankfully, at this moment, the bartender sets the finished drinks in front of us. I set more than enough cash on the bar, grab three drinks, and let Jo grab the other two.
As we walk back to the table, I sway my hips enough to make sure I give the hottie a little show.
We get to the table and set the drinks down.
Liz’s eyes go wide. “Those are huge!”
Joking, I reply, “Thanks, Liz, but my eyes are up here.”
She sighs. “I meant the drinks.”
“Hey, you said only two drinks. I’m going to make sure the two are worth it.”
We all sip on the fruity beverages for a moment before Jo says, “I think Ronnie should go find the sexy guy who was at the bar.”
“Really?” I ask, glaring at her.
“What sexy guy?” Leah asks.
