Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

I was mad. Mad at Bo for our pseudo star-crossed situation, mad at Adrian for showing up; really I was mad at Adrian for being involved at all. I was mad at Josh for breaking Monica’s heart, mad that Monica made me think about what feelings I might have for Adrian, and mad that I wanted to run away with Bo and play the guitar on every beach in America.

“Do you think they’ll follow us?” Monica sounded breathless, as if we were in an action movie.

“Who the hell cares? We’ve had a century’s worth of shitty days between the two of us this week.” We took my car to get there faster and we were at LD, as we called it, in less than two minutes.

The pounding wails of Lil Jon were the only rewards for muscling through the sweaty belligerence of the entryway. We tore up to the liquor buffet with purpose.

“Two shots please!” I shouted into the bartender’s pierced ear.

“What do you want?” He leaned in to hear my answer.

“Does it look like it matters?” Monica shouted in to his other ear.

With a knowing grin, the bartender set up two shot glasses and urgently filled them.

“Here’s to us. We love each other unconditionally and would never screw each other over!” Monica shouted.

“Truth!” I tipped my head back, and let the burning liquid coat my throat with indifference.

Monica and I rarely went out with inebriation in our sights. That was a pastime typically left in college. However, the past week had beaten the hell out of me, and I’d had enough. I fully intended to take it out on whatever the bartender was pouring.

After our third shot Monica got a text message.

“What fresh hell is that?” I asked in a surly voice.

“Christ. It’s Josh. His first text to me in two days and he tells me that he, Adrian, and Bo are on their way here. Evidently they’re concerned.” Monica put air-quotes around the last word and I hooted loudly.

“Concerned are they? Hey, Blake, another round please!” Blake the bartender poured us each another shot.

“Monica, this is bullshit. I’m in loooove with Bo.” The fourth shot was finding its way in to my speech.

“Yea?”

“Bitch-of-it-is, I can’t jump all over him when he gets in here because Adrian mother-fucking Turner is with him. And Josh is a dick, Monica - a total dickless dick,” I garbled.

“Ha ha ha. Yea.” Monica’s eyes started to gloss over and she was swaying to the beat of a song in her head. “And, don’t forget, Adrian still loooooves you!” She pointed at me and giggled before her eyes shot to the door.

“Super, the three musketeers are here!” I mocked. “Come on, screw them.” I dragged Monica to Lost Dog’s excuse of a dance floor.

I positioned myself so I could see Josh, Bo, and Adrian standing all cross-armed against the bar while Monica and I shook it like it was our last night to shake it. It took the last semi-sober look I had left in me to gauge their reactions.

Josh looked rather like a deer in the headlights. Monica hadn’t so much as looked at him at Finnegan’s, and I guessed that this was the first time they’d been in the same room since their break up. Adrian smiled in amusement at our display, but his face seemed to retain a bit of the emotion from our conversation on the beach. My observation pivoted to Bo, and our eyes locked as he stood uncomfortably to the side of Adrian. Despite the dim lighting and my profuse buzz, I could tell his clenched jaw held the worry his face couldn’t - not in front of Adrian.

“Look at them. What are we, property? Poor Bo, look at his face.” Monica made a puppy-dog face and I smacked her arm.

“Poor Bo? You were just telling me all about the paper-perfectness of me and Adrian!” I shouted through dance moves.

“Oh, Ember, whatever. You’ve got two men who love you; champagne problems, sister.”

“Come, we need more drink.” I walked us intentionally to the side of our self-appointed guardians.

“Gentlemen.” I nodded with a mocking smile. I was starting to feel the extra-snarky confidence that comes from so much alcohol.

I slipped between Adrian and Bo and asked the bartender for two more shots.

“Wait!” Monica shouted over me. “Make it five!”

I handed shots to a relieved-looking Josh, and Adrian - the always willing participant in all things booze, before turning to Bo.

“No thanks, I’m set.” Bo held up his hands.

I shrugged and swallowed his shot, followed immediately by mine, before slamming the glasses back on the bar. His hand gripped above my elbow as he breathed into my neck.

“Don’t do this.” His voice bristled with anger, making me a little uncomfortable and, therefore, angry.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I hissed in his ear, yanking my arm out of his grip.

“Turner clearly dumped something on you. I can see it on his face and yours. I’ll step back while you deal with it.” The matter-of-fact way the words rolled off his tongue threw my head back, and filled my eyes with tears.

“Just like that, huh?” Bo’s willingness to stand down raised a red flag of betrayal in my drunken head. I realized in that moment that I was seeking for him to remind me why I loved him, and not Adrian. This wasn’t helping.