Page 20 of The Bad Girl List

I say got to work because he tackled his bottle of wine the way I might have tackled a research project back in college: with dedicated gusto. The irony that he ordered a bottle of Moretti Old Vine Zin is not lost on me. It makes me feel like I’m the punchline of a bad joke.

If I had to guess, the guy is on a mission to get shit-faced. There’s an air around him I can’t quite comprehend, like he’s sad or lost.

His eyes were red-rimmed when he showed up, which makes me think he was already drunk when he got here. Is he having a bad day? He’s drinking even more enthusiastically than I am, and I doubt he has a cousin waving a Bad Girl List over his head.

I spend the next two Cosmos with my arm protectively around my sketchbook so no one can see what I’m doing. I keep my head down, peeking covertly in Trevor’s direction. He’s hunched over, his face half obscured by his wine bottle, but I can see enough. He keeps glancing in our direction, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t notice me staring. Annika, Thomas, and Minnie are way more entertaining than I am.

I’m the sort of person who blends into the background at bars. Or at least, that’s what Oliver always said. He didn’t mean it as a compliment.

As I continue to take dedicated swigs of my Cosmo, I sketch Trevor. If I was sober, I never would have done this, but what the hell, my head is buzzing and I feel miles away from my troubles, and damn he looks so good, how can I resist?

I don’t like my first drawing. He looks too broody. I can’t quite put his expression into words, but the guy definitely isn’t broody. There’s something else going on behind those eyes. I flip the page and start again.

Oh, shit. Our eyes just met.

I pick up the fresh Cosmo that appears as if by magic in front of me, and take a long drink. My stomach feels leaden and slightly queasy. When had that happened? I hunch further over my drawing, shifting so that half my body is shielded by Annika and her wildly gesticulating arms.

I start on the second drawing of the hot cowboy.

Except he’s not a cowboy, because he doesn’t have cows. That’s what he’d said to Minnie. He wasn’t trying to be funny, but his flat, deadpan delivery had cracked me up. Luckily, I don’t think he realized I was laughing at him. Or maybe he had. I think maybe he looked at me when I laughed, but it was hard to be certain with the Cosmos ruffling my perceptions.

What do you call a guy who looks like a cowboy but isn’t? He must work in a vineyard. I have no clue what they call guys who work in vineyards. Grape growers? Pruners? I make a mental note to Google it when I’m sober.

I lose myself in the work, pausing only to sneak glances at my subject and to take swigs from my Cosmo. My pencils are in a jumble on the counter next to me. I reach for them unconsciously, mixing yellow and brown until I achieve the perfect shade of his five o’clock shadow. I use the brown to add the dirt smudges on his blue denim shirt collar. I use a light gray to trace the tension he carries around his eyes.

My head is happily buzzing, and I realize I haven't felt this relaxed in months. I just might try to talk Annika into coming to Zeke’s every night.

I exhale in surprise as I finish, surveying the picture. The drawing makes me sit up straight, a rather incredible feat considering my stomach feels like it might eject itself out through my spinal cord.

Haunted. That’s the word that flashes through my Cosmo-drenched brain as I follow the lines of Trevor’s face. This guy doesn’t look like he’s having your average bad day. He looks like he’s carrying around a soul-crippling sadness. What could make him feel that way?

I dart another look in his direction, but his face is stuffed into his wine glass. I flip to a new page in my sketchbook, my eyes landing on Minnie as she plops four martini glasses onto the countertop in front of her. I’ve been so absorbed in what I’m doing, I hadn’t realized how busy the bar had become.

“Hey, cuz.” Annika shoves her elbow into my side. “You better take notes on our one-night stands. This is going to be you sometime in the next ten days.”

“Are you planning to get laid while you’re on vacation?” Minnie asks with an eager lift of her eyebrows, never faltering as she pours a long stream of gin into her shaker. “I know just the bar to go to. There’s this new place in downtown Healdsburg called Platitude … ”

I stop listening. Thomas is calling to Trevor, inviting him to our end of the bar. A jolt of panic goes through me as I swiftly snap my sketchbook closed. I try to be inconspicuous by ducking down behind my cousin, but I can’t stop staring as Trevor comes our way.

He has a wine bottle in one hand and a very-very full glass in the other. He’s halfway around Annika when our eyes meet.

Then Thomas sticks out his leg, and Trevor trips. He loses his grip on his bottle and glass.

Everything happens so fast. One second, I’m stealing peeks at the gorgeous guy in the rumpled shirt. The next second, his glass of wine rockets out of his hand, splashes all across my T-shirt and pants, then shatters against the wooden floor. The bottle hits me in the waist and spills all over my pants.

I yelp in surprise, knocking my sketchbook to the floor.

A round of applause goes up from a few nearby tables. I stare down at my soaking clothes, too drunk and too stunned to do anything. The gorgeous guy looks at me in horror, and I can tell by his bloodshot eyes that he’s as drunk as I am.

“Oh, shit.” He reaches for a stack of bar napkins. “I’m such an ass. I’m sorry–”

“What the hell, Trevor?” Thomas says loudly. “You just spilled expensive wine all over this poor girl’s clothes. Bar napkins aren’t going to cut it. Take her out to the car and use the Wine Away in the glove compartment. There are extra towels in the trunk.”

Is it my imagination, or did Thomas just wink at Trevor? It must have been my imagination. Wine sodden clothes are nothing to wink about.

“Um, yeah.” Trevor drops the napkins. “I’m such a clumsy ass. I’m sorry. You, uh, want to try Wine Away?”

I have no idea what that is, but Annika gives me a not-so-subtle thumbs up.

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