Dammit, I’m blushing again. “I’m a vet-tech at an animal clinic downtown, and I give riding lessons a few times a week.”
“Oh, right. You were always into horses.”
My heart swells. “Yeah. I was. I still have Mystery, my horse.” The bartender sets my vodka and cranberry down and I pick it up, taking a big drink. “I got him when I was in middle school. He’s my baby, well, next to my dog, Hunter.” I take another drink. “And I should mention Romeo or I’ll feel bad.”
“Sure.” Travis’s eyes go to my breasts, which are pushed the fuck up in this uncomfortable pushup bra. Is it misleading to present my humble B-sized breasts as anything bigger? Maybe. But I’m too drunk to care right now.
“What about you?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink. The taste of vodka hits me hard, much harder than my previous drinks. “What are you up to?”
“Sports,” he says, and I nod as if that makes sense.
“Cool.” Cool? What the fuck? I take another drink and look out at the dance floor at Laney. She’s right up by the band with a drink in her hand. “Do you want to—” I start but then cut off when I see Travis checking his phone. Taking a big sip of my drink, I slide off my stool. “I’ll be right back,” I tell him, needing to use the bathroom. I set my drink down only to pick it up and take one last drink, and then wobble my way to the ladies’ room.
I compliment everyone who comes in as I wash my hands, and drunkenly fix my hair in the dirty mirror before leaving. I order another drink and turn around, leaning against the bar as I look for Travis, spotting him across the room. He’s talking to some guy who looks familiar but I can’t place his face.
I wobble a bit on these damn heels, slowing right before I get to Travis and his friend. I stop to adjust the hem of my crop top and don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I can’t help but overhear.
“Dude, the girl’s a freak, and I don’t mean it in a good way.” Travis’s friend lets out a snort of laugher and takes a swig of his beer.
“I know,” Travis says. “She’s always been one, and used to talk about creepy shit back in high school. We voted her most un-bangable.”
I freeze, drunk brain slow to realize he’s talking about me.
“She’s too hot to be considered un-bangable.”
“Trust me. If you knew her, you’d agree. She’s fucking nuts, but girls like her give it up easy. It’s like they want to live out their high school fantasy where the prom king takes pity on the desperate nerd.”
Harrison was prom king our senior year, but that’s not the point. Angry tears fill my eyes, but I’m more pissed with myself than anything else. Because here I was feeling confident and thinking someone like Travis—who I knew to be an asshole in high school—might actually like me. And I hate that there was a part of me that wanted him to see I wasn’t the same weird loser that I was in high school. I’ve grown up, and while I’m still weird, I’m proud of the woman I’ve become.
Feeling stupid for thinking anyone else could see that, I take a big gulp of my drink and turn away, face burning with embarrassment. I’ve been called a lot of things, but un-bangable…never. I don’t want to be here anymore, and I want to go home now. Laney drove me here, and even though I’m drunk, I know I can’t expect her to leave like this. Though she’s a good enough friend I know she will, no questions asked. Which is exactly why I hike my purse up over my shoulder and spin on my heel. I toss my drink in the trash and trip, not making the grand exit I hoped for, but I’m on my way out of the bar before anyone notices me.
The night air is cool around me, and I drunkenly weigh my options. I could call Harrison and have him come get me, though there’s not a guarantee he’s not as drunk—or drunker—than I am right now. I could call an Uber and have someone take me home in just a few minutes…or I could keep walking, which seems like the best option in my mind after several drinks.
I’ll call Laney later, after I’ve gotten safely home—somehow—and will finish that bottle of Moscato I’ve been nursing all week, allowing myself to wallow in self-pity until I pass out. What annoys me though is how my reputation held. Yeah, I was weird. But get the fuck over it, dude.
I angrily wipe a tear away and keep walking, not wanting to stop until I can’t see the lights from the bar-front anymore. I get to a street corner and pause. I’m drunk but stop to look both ways at least. The air has cooled considerably now that the sun has set, and I wish I brought a sweater.