“You’re one of a kind,” she whispers between us, then turns and walks into her room. She tosses her clothes into a hamper in the corner before she lies down.
I walk back out to the living room to leave and notice her keys are still in the lock, so I take them out and place them on kitchen counter, where she’s sure to find them. I find a sticky note pad on the counter and scribble out my cell number and leave it stuck to her keys.
“I took your keys from the lock, I left them on the counter. Call or text me in the morning, tell me if you’re okay. Also take these, and drink this,” I tell her, handing her a couple ibuprofen I found in a bottle on the counter, along with a glass of water. She does as I tell her and then collapses on the pillow. I look over her one last time, pretty sure she won’t remember much of this conversation, then leave her bedroom.
I shut the door behind me but leave on the lamp and turn the lock on the handle of the door since I can’t lock the deadbolt without the keys. I left her alone, to sleep off the alcohol. Hopefully, she’ll call or text me in the morning.
6
Ashley
I wake up and look around at my room. I vaguely remember coming home with Nick last night, after being out for Tiffany’s birthday party and ending the night at The Tap House. I roll over onto my back and realize the other side of my bed is empty and cold, so Nick either never slept there or has already left. After pulling the blankets off and realizing I’m in my normal sleep clothes, I’m going to guess he didn’t stay, and we didn’t sleep together. How pathetic must I be that I can’t remember exactly what happened last night?
After using the bathroom, I wash my hands and face, then brush my teeth. Once I feel human again, I make my way out to the kitchen. Mom’s door is shut, which doesn’t surprise me, since she worked a night shift and it’s only ten. I notice my keys sitting on the counter with a sticky note attached to them, so I grab it after starting the coffee pot.
Ash – you left these in the lock last night, not sure where you normally keep them, but figured here was better than in the lock. Call or text me when you wake up, so I know you’re okay. – Nick
I read his note a few more times, wondering what kind of man does this. What kind of man drives a drunk girl home and makes sure she gets to bed safely? What sort of man picks up my life I’ve practically thrown on the floor, left my keys he found in my door and his number on the counter, and then walked out? Who doesn’t take advantage of the drunk girl who throws herself at him, offering up her body? Maybe he’s got a girlfriend? Maybe he swings for the other team? No way. I saw the way he looked at me, how I affected him. How he held my hand last night leaving the bar. He’s definitely attracted.
I sit with a mug of coffee, fingering the sticky note with Nick’s note and cell number on it. I ponder if I should contact him. He was super nice to do everything he did for me last night, so it would be rude not to at least text him, to let him know I’m okay and to thank him for getting me home safe last night.
With two cups of coffee consumed and a small breakfast of some buttered toast, I make my way back into my room and grab my cell from my nightstand. It was plugged in, so at least it isn’t dead somewhere—probably another thing Nick did for me last night. I quickly add his contact information into my phone and then open my messaging app.
Ashley: Hey, thanks for the ride home last night and for making sure I made it inside and to bed safely. You’re one of a kind, Nick.
I don’t really expect to hear back from him, especially this early in the day with the hours he works at the bar, so I toss my phone back onto my nightstand and slide back under the covers. I don’t have any real plans today, so a little more sleep sounds about perfect right now.
I wake up a while later, feeling refreshed. I grab my cell to check the time and am shocked I slept for another three hours. I also have a couple missed texts from Nick and Tiffany.
Tiffany: Are you alive? Did you make it home safely? Anything fun happen with the sexy bartender?
Tiffany: Ash… text me, call me… I just want to make sure you’re okay. Fuck, I should have never left you at that bar last night.
Tiffany: I really hope you’re just asleep and not dead in some alley somewhere.
Nick: Really it wasn’t a big deal. I’m glad I was able to get you home safely. Since you found my note with my number, I take it you also found your keys.
Nick: Want to grab a late lunch? I can come pick you up.
Crap, I hate it when Tiffany worries about me, so I answer her first.
Ashley: Sorry! I’m safe at home. Nick got me home last night, nothing fun happened. He was a complete gentleman. But he did text me, asking if I wanted to go grab a late lunch with him… Tell me what to do!?!?
Ashley: Yes! I found my keys. Thank you for removing them from the lock. I can’t believe I left them in it. :head desk:
Tiffany: Girl, you had me freaking out. I was about to head down to The Tap House and start questioning the workers to find out when you left last night. So, I’m glad to hear you’re alive.
Tiffany: So, he took you home, huh?
Ashley: Yes. He offered to drive me home to save me the cost of an Uber. I stuck around the bar while he closed down and then he drove me home. I ended up falling asleep on the way home, so he helped get me inside. I was a mess, Tiff. Like, drunk girl, life’s in complete disarray, huge fucking mess. I vaguely remember inviting him to stay, but him kindly turning me down. Said I’d had too much to drink to make a decision like that. But I know he was attracted to me. He left a note with his cell number and my keys—which I’d apparently left in the door when we got here—on the counter. I texted him earlier when I woke up for a little bit, thanking him for the ride and apologizing for my hot mess express of a life. So, I was a little shocked at the lunch invite.
Tiffany: There is so much to unpack from all of that. Please tell me you said yes to the lunch invite. Any guy who would tell you you’ve had too much to drink to make the decision to sleep together is one you pursue. He sounds like a good guy, Ash.
Ashley: I’m sure he’s a great guy, but I just got out of a relationship. Should I really be jumping right back into the dating pool?
Nick: No worries. We’ve all had nights like that. I’ve done some stupid shit a time or two while drunk. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. ;)
Nick: Did you want to grab lunch? I was about to head out to grab something… I can swing by and pick you up if you want.
Ashley: He’s texting me again asking about lunch—tell me what to do!!!
Tiffany: Tell him yes!
Ashley: Are you sure? I haven’t even showered yet and he said he’s ready to leave his house.
Tiffany: Yes, I’m sure. Now get your ass into the shower. You’ve got a sexy bartender to impress. I expect details later!
Ashley: Okay, you’ve convinced me.
Ashley: Lunch sounds great, but I haven’t showered yet. Can you stall for twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes?
Nick: Sure can. I’ll see you soon.
Ashley: It’s a done deal. I told him yes! I’m off to shower as I told him it would only take me twenty minutes to be ready.
Tiffany: I want details later. You better not forget to call me.
Ashley: I’ll think about it. ;)
I pull up my latest audiobook and turn on my shower speaker. With the words and sexy timbre of one of my favorite narrators filling the bathroom, I take one of the fastest showers I can, yet still taking the time to run a razor over all the necessary places.
After drying off, I head into my room, closing the door behind me and opening the closet. I stand in front of it, my towel wrapped around my body, as I stare at my options. I have no idea what to wear for this lunch date.
I grab a sundress but put it back. I pull out a tank top and some shorts and toss them over to my bed as an option, then pull out a pair of capris and another tank top, tossing it to join the pile on my bed. I snag a bra and one of my favorite pairs of panti
es from my bin in the closet and start getting dressed.
Standing in front of my closed door that has a full-length mirror hanging off the back, I hold up the first option in front of me, then swap it for the other option as I compare the two.
I finally settle on the shorts, but with the second tank top. Shows off just enough skin and cleavage, but not too much to be inappropriate.
With my outfit settled on, I head back into the bathroom and brush my hair, then quickly braid it to keep it out of my face. After brushing my teeth, I swipe on some mascara and lip gloss and check myself over in the mirror. Approving of my look, I head back into my room and slip on some cute sandals, then grab my purse just as I hear a knock on the door.
“Hey!” I greet Nick as I open the door. My eyes rake over his body, taking in his casual look of a tighter t-shirt and some jeans.
“Hey, yourself,” he says, as he looks me up and down, then notices my purse. “You ready?”
“Yep, perfect timing. I just finished getting ready.”
“Then, let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting then,” I joke as we walk out the door. I stop briefly to lock up, before Nick escorts me down the hall and out the door.
“Any requests or suggestions on where to go for lunch?” he asks as he opens his truck door for me and offers a hand for me to climb up.
“Nope, I’m pretty open,” I tell him before he closes the door. I click my seat belt into place while I watch him round the front and then climb in himself.
“Do you like wings and beer?” he asks as he backs out of the parking spot.
“Isn’t it un-American to not like wings and beer?” I ask jokingly.
“Sure is.” He chuckles from the driver seat. “I’m about to blow your socks off then. This place might be the smallest dive restaurant in the city, but damn, do they have the best wings known to man.”
“Sounds perfect, just no judging me if I use my fingers to eat.”
“I’d judge you if you didn’t eat with your fingers. It’s wings. No other proper way to do so.”
“So, tell me about yourself, Nick,” I say, changing the subject from eating.
“Basics are, I’m twenty-eight, and my brother, Kaiden, and I opened The Tap House a few years back. He’s a couple years older than me and just got married earlier this year to Katie. She was the server running around the bar when you’ve been in. Pretty low-key guy. Just trying to make a living and enjoy life. The bar keeps me pretty busy, but it’s successful, and we’ve been able to slowly add in more and more staff as the demand of customers require it. How about you?” he asks as we pull into a parking spot.
“Well, you already know about my shitty week. I’m twenty-five, live with my mom in her rundown apartment, am currently jobless, and don’t really know where or what I’m doing with my life right now. I’m sure if you looked up the words hot mess in the dictionary, you’d find my name and picture right next to it.”
“Hey, life hands us all a shitty hand or two. It’s how we learn from it and move on that helps us grow and figure things out. Trust me, life hasn’t always been sunshine and roses for me, either. The bar gave me something to focus on and be proud of when I needed direction in life,” he tells me, then jumps out of the truck and comes around to open my door.
He leads me into a dive of a restaurant, one I would have never known was tucked into this little back corner of the building it’s located in. The spices hit me as soon as we walk in the door and my mouth starts to water at the incredible smells.
“They have every level of spice you can imagine, so pick wisely,” he tells me as we approach the counter to order.
“What do you normally get?” I ask as I read over the menu.
“A bucket of the medium, with blue cheese dipping sauce and a pitcher of beer.”
“How spicy is the medium?”
“Eh.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s got a good kick to it, but I guess it really depends on what you consider spicy.”
“And you can eat an entire bucket?”
“Yeah, sometimes I have leftovers to take home, but I usually finish off the bucket.”
“Okay,” I say, as I take a moment to read over the menu board again. “Since they offer a split bucket, I guess I’ll try the mild and the Parmesan Garlic.”
“Are you good with Bud or do you want an IPA?”
“I’m good with whatever, plus a glass of water, please.”
“You got it,” he says as we step forward and place our order with the cashier. She sets the pitcher of beer, glasses of water, and cups for the beer in front of us, along with a number tent to place on our table.
“Do you want to sit outside?” he asks, nodding his head to a door I didn’t even notice off the back of the small dining area.
“Sure.” I pick up the glasses and pitcher of beer before he can.
I lead the way to the patio area, and we find a smaller table in the corner. Thankfully, the patio is covered, so it provides shade from the bright sun.
“So, are you from Nashville?” he asks, once we’re settled at the table and he’s poured a glass of beer for each of us.
“We moved here from Memphis when I was a toddler, so it’s all I’ve ever known. My mom has actually lived in the same apartment now for the last ten or so years. Only stable thing in my life has been that apartment.” I’m starting to ramble. “What about you?” I ask, trying to turn the conversation off my lackluster life.
“Born and raised,” he says, taking a drink of his beer. “My parents still live just on the outskirts of town, as do both sets of my grandparents.”
“Are you close, then, with your family?”
“Yes, very. I obviously see my brother and sister-in-law every day, since we own the bar together. But I see my parents and grandparents weekly, or every other week. Not enough, if you ask my mom, but it is what it is. We try really hard to have a weekly family dinner, but with the bar, sometimes that doesn’t work out. What about you, do you have much family in the area?”
“Nope,” I say, popping the P. I don’t elaborate as our food is delivered at that moment.
“Can I get either of you anything else?” the young boy asks.
“I think we’re good for now, thanks,” Nick answers him. “You were saying,” he says, bringing the conversation right back as we both look at the food delivered.
“Just my mom and me. My dad left the picture when I was a baby, I wasn’t old enough to remember him. Since then, it’s just been a string of one bad relationship to the next for my mom. Not the best role model when it came to what a healthy relationship should look like. Probably why I have a bad habit of picking the ones I do. So, please tell me you’re not one of the bad ones?” I say, looking at him with hopeful eyes.
Laughing, Nick looks up from his food and directly at me. His laughter has the sexiest dimples popping out on both of his cheeks that have my insides turning to mush as I look across the table at him. “I’d like to think I’m one of the good ones.”
“Phew!” I say, exaggerating the word as I swipe my hand across my forehead. “I guess we can continue this date then. Wait. This is a date, yes?” I ask, hoping I didn’t make this more than he was intending it to be.
That damn laugh and those dimples again. “Yes, it’s a date. I guess I really should have thought ahead about where I was bringing you.” He looks around at the dive of a place we’re at, then down at the food on the table. “Not the best choice for a first date,” he says, grimacing.
“It’s perfect! I’d much rather be here where we can be laid-back than at some stuffy steakhouse. This is much more my speed.” I pick up a wing, looking it over before I sink my teeth into it. The flavor bursts on my tongue and I moan at how amazing it tastes. “Holy shit, you weren’t joking. These are the best I’ve ever tasted,” I tell him as I drop the bones in the empty bucket on the table and pick up another one, this time from the other flavor section.
/> “Glad you like it here,” he says as he digs in to his own bucket.
Nick is so easy to talk to, and our conversation flows as we both demolish our respective buckets of wings along with the pitcher of beer. I find myself opening up more with him than I have with any other guy I’ve dated, and this is only our first date.
7
Nick
Sitting across this little table from Ashley, I watch as she drinks her beer and eats her wings. Coming here was a bad fucking idea. Each moan she makes as she eats has my dick pressing harder and harder against the zipper of my jeans. I didn’t realize eating some chicken wings and drinking beer could get me so hard. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to come here again without this memory coming back to me.
Our conversation has been easy; something I’ve never experienced with women I’ve dated in the past. Everything always felt forced or fake. There are only a few women in my life I’ve been able to talk to with ease—three of them, I’m blood-related to and the other is married to my brother, so definitely not anyone I’d be pursuing a relationship with.
Drunk Girl Page 4