Chapter 74 (1/2)

The whiskey has officially taken over my mind, set up camp, and doesn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon. Hardin is up to five shots, I lost count of mine after three, and I’m pretty sure Riley should be heaving on the floor from alcohol poisoning by now.

“I feel like this whiskey tastes good,” I remark, dipping my tongue into the chilled shot.

Next to me, Hardin laughs, and I lean into his shoulder and put my hand on his thigh. His eyes immediately follow my hand, and I quickly pull it away. I shouldn’t be acting like nothing happened earlier—I know I shouldn’t, but it’s easier said than done. Especially when I can barely think straight and Hardin looks so good in his white button-down shirt. I’ll deal with our problems tomorrow.

“See, all you needed was a little whiskey to loosen up.” Riley slams her empty shot glass on the bar top, and I giggle.

“What?” she barks.

“You and Hardin are the same.” I cover my mouth to conceal my obnoxious giggles.

“No we aren’t,” Hardin says, speaking at that slower pace he resorts to when he’s intoxicated. So does Riley.

“Yes—you are! It’s like a mirror.” I laugh. “Does Lillian know you’re here?” I swing my head to the side and ask her.

“Nope. She’s asleep for now.” She licks her lips. “But I fully intend on waking her up when I return.”

The music starts to increase in volume again, and I watch the copper-haired woman climb onto the bar for probably the fourth time tonight.

“Again?” Hardin scrunches his nose, and I laugh.

“I think it’s funny.” I think everything is funny right now.

“I think it’s lame, and it interrupts me every thirty minutes,” he gripes.

“You should go up there.” Riley nudges me.

“Up where?”

“The bar, you should dance on the bar.”

I shake my head and laugh. And blush. “No way!”

“Come on—you’ve been whining about being young and having fun, or whatever the hell you were going on and on about. Now’s your chance. Dance on the bar.”

“I can’t dance.” It’s true. I’ve only danced, excluding slow dancing, once, and that was at the nightclub in Seattle.

“No one will notice—they’re all even more wasted than you.” She raises a brow, challenging me.

“No fucking way,” Hardin says.