“I think I’m going to be sick,” I told Asher, who laughed.
“I’m serious.” Gally scowled, kicking at my knee. “Just shut up, gay fucker. Women’s mouths were made for a man’s dick. I’m telling you...because you wouldn’t know, nothing is as fine as a well-given blow job. And…now I want some *.”
He stumbled to his feet. “Who’s with me? Why are we still sitting back here like a bunch of losers when there’s some grade-A, half-naked bitches out there? Let’s find us some *.”
Heath stood first, and Gally cheered him on, slapping his back in congratulations. Then he turned to Asher.
“What about you, Hart? Go * hunting with us. Just this once.”
Asher actually seemed to consider the request before he shrugged and started to crawl his way off the couch. “Okay.”
“What?” I snapped my gaze to him, but he wasn’t paying me any attention, too busy trying to stand straight.
Gally clucked his tongue at me. “Sorry, gay boy. Guess that leaves you out.”
“No, Remy can still come along,” Asher argued, waving me to follow them. “He can be our wingman.”
I winced, suddenly not as drunk as I’d been seconds ago. But the idea of helping Asher score a chick left me sick to my stomach, wanting to puke all the alcohol I’d drunk.
“Or maybe he can find his own dude to score,” Asher added, sending me an encouraging grin.
I sent him a small smile. “Sure, count me in.”
Count me in? What the hell was I saying? I didn’t want to watch him pick up chicks. And yet I couldn’t not come along. I’d worry all night, wondering who he’d chosen, how pretty she was, how funny and— “All right!” Asher cheered, slugging me on the back before he slung his arm over my shoulder and crookedly steered me out of the room.
As Heath and Gally continued on ahead of us, I leaned in, wincing when I made Asher sneeze. But I still had to mutter into his ear, “Thought you said you didn’t like one-night stands.”
Though my voice had been discreet enough, he hissed, “Shh,” and slapped his finger to his lips. “I don’t. But I’m horny and desperate and just drunk enough not to care about how shitty and more alone I’ll feel afterward.”
I wrinkled my brow and opened my mouth to argue, but the look he sent me was full of an aching craving I knew I couldn’t fill with a couple rounds of Call of Duty.
“I need this, Sticks,” he confessed. “I need…something.”
I knew exactly what he needed. He needed to be touched.
Then, as if to wipe away all the misery in himself, he grinned and bumped his body into mine. “And who knows. Maybe I’ll actually meet my soul mate out there.”
Good Lord, I hoped not. Watching him take home a one-night stand would be bad enough; watching him fall into a committed relationship with some other woman...yeah, just kill me now.
I swear, all the females in the building could smell his need, too. As soon as we cleared the back hall and entered the main portion of the bar, they flocked to him, touching him, praising him, smiling their evil, witchy skank smiles at him.
I was torn away from him as they crowded in, and while the space between us grew from one foot to ten, I knew he was lost to me. I wanted to drown myself in more alcohol, but then...I just couldn’t. I went to the bar and ordered a water before returning to the fringes of his crowd of fans, watching helplessly.
After a couple sips, I started to think luck would be on my side. Asher was politely turning them all away. And as the disappointed, rejected flock slunk away one by one, my spirits lifted. If this kept up, his own pickiness would save my entire night.
Asher slumped down next to me, scowling. “What’re the odds that some woman in the place doesn’t know I’m in a band?”
“Oh, about zero to nothing,” I assured him, feeling better by the second.
He scowled at me. “Thank, asshole,” he hissed. “That makes me feel so much better.”
I laughed and slapped his arm. “Just being honest, my friend.”
“Well, I could use a good lie right now. So if you could be so kind—umph.” He went sprawling toward me as someone bumped into him from behind.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there,” A girl gushed, her eyes wide and hand covering her mouth. “Are you okay, sir? Did you spill your drink?”
“No, it’s fine. We’re good.” Asher glanced at me to make sure I was good, then turned back to the woman. “Are you okay?”
She preened and held out a hand. “Well, I am now. The name’s Tamra.”
“Asher,” he greeted, shaking with her.
She scrunched her eyebrows before leaning forward and saying, “Archer?”
“No. It’s Asher,” he called a little louder.
“Oh, okay.” She smiled and kept her hand in his. “Did you come to watch the bands play, Asher?”
His eyebrows lifted. Then he sent me a smug little smile, as if to say zero to none, huh? And he turned back to Tamra...the whore.