Page 135 of Now and Forever

Chapter 48

It had been three weeks since the accident, and school had been a difficult ordeal—manageable but difficult. Eight days until my doctor’s appointment. I was hoping he would give me the clear and finally let me out of this boot for good. Never had I appreciated my functional foot than I did now.

The past weeks had been less than eventful, all thanks to my lovely boot. Not that it hadn’t crossed my mind to accept one of Spencer’s offers to party with them, but when I was about to accept, something always stopped me. It was all about having fun and enjoying other people’s company, right? Yet, when I recalled the dressed up women they surrounded themselves with, I thought better than to party, only to end up being made fun of for not only the boot, but the story that went along with my current state. It just seemed wiser to stay put. Besides, I had realized how much I loved to have someone to spend lazy weekends with. Those few days with Drew had showed me that. Speaking of which, he and I had been getting on fine. Gone were the days of spiteful retorts. We had become more … complacent toward each other. Not too warm, but complacent. We knew our limits when it was just the two of us, one of which was not to get too physical. And just like he had promised, he never brought anyone home.

It wasn’t due to the fact that he had become celibate—oh, yeah, he was still getting it on elsewhere. I had seen the hickeys, the scratches on his back, lipstick stains on his neck, and some even on his clothing. Based on those, there was no doubt that he had quite an appetite to satiate. Lucky women. Lucky him. Unlucky me.

I wasn’t getting any, zilch, bone dry. Eden’s once lush garden was no more. Mind you, that was half of my problem. The other dwelled more on his actions while my silently bleeding heart watched with a tired smile and swollen eyes.

That was why, on a warm Thursday night, right after class, instead of heading home, I had a cab drop me off at a bar half a block from the apartment. Yes, I was a nineteen-year-old who just happened to have a fake I.D. Well, in all technicalities, it wasn’t necessarily a fake. All the information was valid and active. Let’s just say my friend Joyce had an uncle who ran an illegal business.

The bar had a cozy vibe, laid back and casual, just like the patrons who were enjoying their drinks, chatting amongst their friends. Right from the get go, I already felt at home, as if I had been here several times.

There were a few glances headed my way as I trudged along, heading toward the bar.

“Jack and coke, please,” I ordered with relief the moment my butt was situated safely on the rounded red cushioned bar stool.

The guy flung a towel over his shoulder before giving me a quick onceover. “I.D. please,” he asked in a heavily accented tone that resonated like Spanish to me, but I could have been wrong.

“Of course,” I replied. shrugging before pulling out the card. “Here you go.”

“Hmm.” He pressed his lips together, throwing me a quick glance before reverting his scrutinizing gaze back at the identification card, skeptical. “You don’t look like you’re twenty-two.”

“I know, right? It’s Botox. Works like a miracle.” Lies. Pure lies. However, this girl needed a damn drink, and I wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. Desperate times. Desperate measures.

“Botox, huh?” He handed me back my card. “Smooth.”

“Thanks.” I beamed at him, unperturbed by his blatant reservation about my age.

The man proceeded to do his usual barman thing, pulling a glass from the neatly stacked pyramid pile, placing a few ice cubes, and pouring a shot of Jack in it before throwing me a pointed look. “Tough day?”

The guy was making small talk. I didn’t mind it. He was only doing his job, after all.

“Tough life. I’m sure you saw my buddies right here.” I waved towards the crutches.

After pouring the coke, he took a napkin and placed the drink atop it then leaned in closely so I alone could hear him. “I don’t believe your age, but you look like you need some cheering up.” He gave me an understanding smile before tapping the counter.

“Geez, how considerate of you. And yes, I need some fun. Life’s been shitty; that’s for sure,” I drawled then took a long sip of my drink, annihilating it before coming up for air. “The guy I’m in love with likes to mess with my head, but he doesn’t pull the trigger if you know what I mean.” Finishing whatever was left in my glass through the tiny black straw, I waved my finger to ask for another one. “What’s your name again? I don’t believe you mentioned it.”

“Manolo,” he stated in a Spanish drawl with emphasis on the vowels.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Chloe.” I tried to mimic the way he’d said his name but failed miserably. My unsuccessful attempt made him laugh, so I supposed he wasn’t offended.

Manolo had to excuse himself to tend to a new customer, but after he was done, he strolled back. “This guy you were talking about, why do you think he can’t pull the trigger?”

“I have theories.” I nodded before bottoming out my second drink. “But first, I need a new one please, Manny.” Flickering my lashes at him, I sweetly smiled.

He shook his head. “Girl, you’re going to have to crawl out of here.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Aye, if you say so.” He saluted before making me another.

Before he even placed the drink on the countertop, I began my story from the very beginning. Little, drunk me could get highly animated, so it wasn’t a wonder when Manolo became completely engrossed in my story and my company, always coming back after he took care of customers.

After an hour and a half, his friend who worked part-time, named Chuey, came to sit next to me while he waited until Manolo was off from work in an hour’s time. They were nice and good-looking, but it was blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that they were gay. At one point, I even asked them if they were dating or on the verge of being a couple, but they immediately denied it, saying they were both dominant and simply didn’t mesh relationship wise, that they were better off as friends. They seemed very pragmatic about it, but I didn’t press since they were intrigued about Drew and his push and pull tactics.

I was so consumed by my story-telling that I lost count of how many glasses I’d had. Hence, when it was time for Manolo to leave with Chuey, the guys offered to take me back to my apartment. They did that by getting me inside a cab with some difficulty.

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