"That's why I played the doting girlfriend," she says, making another attempt to flutter her eyelashes at me. "I was trying to stop the trainwreck before it happened. So I'm sorry if I upset you, but I saw Harley watching you and I felt like I needed to stop Blaire...and you, before it went any further."
"It wasn't going to go any further. I told you, I don't like Blaire like that." Jesus Christ! What is the big fucking deal? So a girl was flirting with me and I didn't stop her, who cares?
"And I'm really glad to hear that. But if you don't like her like that, then what was up with the whole leaning-on-the-bar, flirty voice act?"
"What do you expect me to do, Avery? Harley. Has. A. Boyfriend," I yell, instantly feeling bad for raising my voice at her. I know this isn't her fault, but I'm pissed that she's making me feel like I did something wrong. I didn't sleep with Blaire, for fuck’s sake...I didn't even touch her.
"You're wrong," she says calmly. Tipping her head back, she finishes her beer, sets it on the bar, and slides off the stool.
"Where the hell are you going?"
Avery glares at me and I snap my mouth shut. No need to piss off another woman. She starts to walk away and then turns around briefly. "I'm going to try and fix your mess."
Great. This is just great.
"ENOUGH! ENOUGH, ENOUGH, ENOUGH!" Quinn weasels her way between Levi and me, grabbing onto my hand. "I love you both and you're both hot as hell, and it's sexy watching you dance, but I need my girl back." Quinn starts yanking me off the dance floor and I turn to look at Levi, but he already has another girl wrapped in his arms. I smile warmly…he needs that. He winks once and then spins the lucky girl in the opposite direction.
I've had several more drinks and a few shots so my mind is a bit foggy, but it feels good to let loose. "Quinn. Slow down. I can't keep up with your ostrich legs!" A small laugh leaves my lips and I stumble, ramming into Quinn's back when she stops in her tracks.
She turns to look at me with a huge smile on her face. "Did you just call me an ostrich?" she asks.
I furrow my brow. "Uhhhh…no?"
She shakes her head and laughs. Turning around, she pulls my hand and starts dragging me behind her again. "You're drunk and I LOVE IT!" she sings over the music as we step up to the bar.
"No." I shake my head swiftly. "No more drinks. I need to function tomorrow."
"Pfffff." She waves her hand, dismissing my protest. "But you're right, no more drinks." Oh God. She doesn't give up that easy. What the hell is sh—
"Yo, Mike!" The sexy, tatted-up bartender looks our way and tips his chin. What the hell is up with that? Why do guys tip their chin? It’s official…I don't like the 'chin tip.’ "I need two Tijuana Hookers. PRONTO!" My eyes widen and my head, along with every other head at the bar, spins in Quinn's direction.
"What the hell is a Tijuana Hooker? I don't want a Tijuana Hooker. What's in a Tijuana Hooker?" I rapid-fire questions at her.
"You'll love it! Trust me," she says dismissively.
"Seriously, Quinn, when I said 'no more drinks,' I didn't mean let's do shots."
"Lighten up, tight-ass," she quips, smacking me hard on the butt and then rubbing the sting. I swat her hand away and she laugh
s. Mr. Tatted and Sexy—yup, I named him too—slides four shot glasses in front of us. Wait a minute. Didn't she order two shots? Leaning forward, I peek in the glasses and sniff.
"What. The. Fuck. Is that pickle juice? You're out of your ever-lovin’ mind if you think I'm going to—" Quinn covers my mouth with her hand and I resist the urge to lick it. Who cares if I'm twenty-seven, it would still be funny as shit!
Leaning in close, she whispers in my ear. "Listen. You know I have no problem making a scene. In fact, I've already got the attention of almost every man at this bar. So you have two choices. One, you take the shot of tequila and chase it with your pickle juice." I try to make a disgusted face, but her hand prevents my nose from crinkling. "Or two, I'm going to kiss you in front of all of these men." She wouldn't, would she? Oh shit, she totally would!
"Nod once if you understand." I nod once. Lord knows I don't want to piss off a woman who wants to drink a Tijuana Hooker. Seriously, where the hell does she come up with this shit? "Blink once for the first choice or twice for the second." She sits back, her hand clamped tightly around my mouth and winks at the guy sitting next to me. I turn my head slightly and see him smiling suggestively at the two of us. Creeper.
Well, shit. I don't want tequila with pickle juice, but Quinn knows I would shit a brick if she actually kissed me in front of all these people. I blink once.
"Damn. I was kinda hoping you'd pick number two." She grins, removing her hand from my mouth.
"You were?" She must be wasted. Quinn loves men more than anyone I know.
"Nah…I only offered the second choice because I knew you wouldn't take it. But you should've seen your face—priceless," she says, letting out a deep throaty laugh. She slides me two shot glasses before lifting her own shot of tequila. I follow suit and we tap glasses and drink. HOLY SHIT, that burns! Reaching for my shot of pickle juice, I throw my head back. HOLY SHIT…hey, that's good. Like really good!
I push the shot glasses away from us. "Wow. I actually liked that."
"Oh. My. God." Quinn throws her head back with a deep moan, eliciting the attention of every male within a ten-foot radius. "This is the best Tijuana Hooker I've ever had. Ever. I needed this." She smacks her lips and looks around, noticing for the first time the attention that she has garnered. Quinn loves it—of course she does—so she smiles, turning her attention to me.