“You wanna dance?” he asked the blonde and scooted a little close to her. Give her some personal space, Jasper. Watching him chat up women was like watching a car crash.
“I have a boyfriend,” she responded, raising her eyebrows, but not actually looking too bothered about the fact.
Without saying a word, he turned away from her. It was as if she had just told him she had murdered a litter of kittens.
“Wanna dance?” he asked her friend, who was standing right next to her! Ben burst out laughing, and I just watched open-mouthed. You would at least try a different group of girls! Unless, of course, you were Jasper.
The blonde’s friend snorted. “Are you serious? Do I look like a backup or something?” Jasper’s face turned thoughtful. He was taking way too long to respond. Say no!
He shrugged. “Sorry, I like her more.”
I chocked on my drink, my eyes widening in shock. Did he really just say that? The girls face reddened. She slapped his cheek, and the sound made me flinch. That had to hurt. It didn’t seem to faze Jasper. I had a feeling that wasn’t the first time he had been slapped.
“No need to be all touchy, love, I was just being honest!” he shouted after her as she stormed off with her friends.
“We’ve only been in here five minutes, and you’ve been slapped already. That must be some sort of a record,” Ben praised, slapping him on the back. Jasper smiled proudly and downed his shot.
Halfway through the night, Jasper ditched us for a group of Thai girls, here for a holiday. He was in his own little idea of heaven. I sat back at the bar with Ben, downing drinks.
“So it’s never awkward or anything?” he questioned, referring to Oakley and me.
“Nope.” Shaking my head, I explained, “I know what she’s thinking pretty much all of the time, so I don’t really need her to say it.”
He nodded along. “Wow. I have no idea what Kerry thinks, and she doesn’t shut up!” They were different ends of the extreme, one never talking, and one always talking. No wonder they got along so well. They balanced each other out perfectly.
“Do you ever wish she would talk though? I mean, doesn’t it bother you that you’ll never hear her say she loves you? And what about the future? When you get married? She won’t be able to say the vows and shit.”
That was something I had thought about, but surely we could get married without her actually saying the words? It wasn’t something we needed to worry about for a long time yet, but I definitely wanted to marry her some day.
“Of course, I wish she would talk, but I don’t really care. And she does say she loves me, she just doesn’t say it.”
Ben’s black eyebrows knitted together in confusion. I couldn’t help laughing at him.
“I’ll get the next round,” I said, pulling a tenner out of my wallet.
Jasper appeared back at the bar, not to talk to me and Ben, but for the redhead standing just along from us.
“This should be good,” Ben muttered. I moved slightly closer, making sure I left a reasonable amount of space between me and the stranger I was standing next to, so I couldn’t be accused of being a pervert.
“Hotel room,” I heard Jasper say. Wow, he got straight to the point. A song with a lot of bass started playing, making it harder to hear. The next thing out of his mouth was, “Hitler.”
I looked at Ben in horror. What the hell was he doing? Why was he talking about Hitler? The girl frowned and started to look a little scared.
“Some good ideas. I love blondes...” I wanted to make a quick exit, but there was something about the train wreck that I just couldn’t look away from. The girl, not a blonde, glared.
Sure enough, she threw her drink in his face, and then slapped his cheek before storming off. I stood frozen. Did he really just say that? He raised his hands in celebration, looking around the club. Please don’t see me, please.
“Damn it,” I muttered as he turned around and grinned in our direction.
“Cole! Man, did you see that?” he asked, still grinning as he walking over to us. The front of his shirt was soaking wet. I shook my head at him. “Right in my face,” he exclaimed proudly, wiping the strong smelling wine from his chin.
I shook my head and asked the million-dollar question, “Why were you talking about Hitler?”
He shrugged and leant on the bar. “Worked didn’t it? I tried everything else, so I thought I’d bring a little dictator into the mix and bam, drink all over me!” He pulled at his soaking shirt for emphasis. What could he have possibly tried for that to be his last option? I stopped myself before I asked, deciding it was probably best to just not know.
Chapter Seventeen
Oakley