Very, very drunk.
“Want another drink?” he asked, his easy smile one I found myself returning.
“Sure,” I said, giving him an unnecessary accompanying thumbs up. Might as well do the job right. Passing out would be the only way I’d get a wink of sleep tonight anyway.
“Life is tricky, isn’t it?” I found myself murmuring as I stared blearily at the candle flickering on the table in front of us. “Happiness is so fragile…”
My seatmate raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I guess so?”
The cocktail waitress came over and I waited for him to order before leaning closer to continue our conversation, which seemed imperative all of a sudden. "So Drew...it is Drew, right?"
"Actually, it's Dan, but--"
"Right, Dan, sorry," I said and then hiccupped. "’Scuse me. So as I was saying, you can't ever really be sure of anything, you know? Like, one second, everything can be going along awesome. Perfect. Noooo sweat. And then..." I slammed my hand down on the table hard enough to send beer sloshing over his plastic cup and he flinched in surprise. "Bam! It's over. Just dust in the wind..." I whispered, making soft windy sounds with my mouth to make sure he really got the full visual.
His mouth twitched and he nodded. "Right. Got it. Dust in the wind."
I closed one eye and narrowed the other at him suspiciously.
"Do you think I'm being funny? I'm not being funny, I'm being dead serious, Drew. People will get close to you, make themselves indispensible, weave themselves into the very fabric of your being," I laced my fingers together in an attempt to top my last stellar interactive story-telling attempt, “and then, they will decimate your life like an atom bomb. If you're smart, you won’t ever let someone get that close. Trust me. Just have casual flings. That's what I'm going to do,” I said with a resolute nod. “I'm going to start having some casual flings, like a normal twenty-one year old."
Drew's eyes lit up at the announcement and he slid a little further into the booth until our knees touched. I hadn't really thought it all through when I'd said the words. It was more like a concept. I liked the idea of it, but now, when faced with even the remote possibility of making it a reality, it was everything I could do not to recoil. He hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, he'd been super nice and patient with my drunk ass. But the thought of a stranger's hands on me? Hands that weren't Robbie's?
Made my stomach clench.
"Want to go for a walk on the beach with me? Maybe head back to my bungalow? The rest of the guys will be here for another couple hours, so we'll have the place to ourselves..." he trailed off, his blue eyes full of promise.
I opened my mouth to try and backpedal when a gritty voice chimed in.
"You think she's in shape to make that kind of call, buddy?"
I nearly sprained my neck whipping my head around to see Robbie standing a foot from the table, his dark, icy gaze locked on Dan…or Drew. His arms were crossed over his chest making his biceps pop like two grapefruits as my liquor-soaked brain tried to keep up with this farce.
Could this seriously be happening right now? Had my ex-boyfriend really showed up at my last Spring Break and watched me get pelted in the face with a volleyball? Was he really standing not two feet away from me now, about to throw down with some poor guy who thought he’d landed the easy holiday hook up?
It was like something out of a reality TV show…a really depressing reality TV show.
"She made the offer, brah. I wasn’t pushing shit on her. What's the problem?" Drew-Dan said, rising to his feet to stand toe to toe with Robbie.
He was a big guy, two inches or so taller than Robbie's six one, but he was leaner and much less muscular. I’d seen Robbie box more times than I could count and I had no doubt what the result of an actual brawl would be, but there was no way I was letting it get that far.
I scrambled from my spot in the booth, almost tripping over my own tangled feet before sliding between them and laying a hand on both of their chests right as Robbie was moving closer.
"I don't care who offered what,” Robbie said, his voice low but lethal. “She's obviously drunk. And I'm not your ‘brah’."
"Okay, okay. Stop it, both of you." I turned to Drew-Dan and gave him a polite smile. "Sorry, but can you give us just two seconds? I'll meet you at the bar, okay?"
He maintained eye contact with Robbie even as he dipped his head. "Yeah, sure. That's fine. You handle your business first."
He backed away, posture tense and at the ready, and then picked up his beer before making his way over to the bar.