“Not what I was expecting at all.” He shakes his head but laughs at the ridiculousness surrounding us. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure, surprise me? I’ll go grab us a table.” I hope whatever he picks for me isn’t gross. I haven’t done a lot of drinking since I turned twenty-one and the small glasses of wine on occasion at celebratory dinners hardly shaped my taste. I still don’t really know what I like when it comes to alcohol. But I’m feeling adventurous tonight.
“One Holly Jolly, just for you.” The summertime sunset-colored drink looks delicious and smells fruity. I’m instantly transported to a sandy beach and clear blue oceans. I take a big gulp and pull a face. Its looks are deceiving, the liquor burns down my throat and my body shivers at the unexpected fire.
Preston’s laughter fills the space between us. “I should have told you to stir it up first, the bartender didn’t.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I sputter, giving it a stir and taking another sip. Better. This time the sensation is smooth and fruity, with only a hint of rubbing alcohol. We chat and people watch, getting up to play a game of pool, but Preston puts his foot down on karaoke.
The second drink goes down smoother, and the third seems to taste of straight juice. As the night goes on, we decide to head to the next bar a couple of blocks over—putting the ‘crawl’ in Santa Crawl.
We walk down the sidewalk, piles of snow shoveled on each side, salt crunching under our boots with each step, hand in hand. I sing quietly to myself and decide that I really like drinking. The next bar doesn’t disappoint, there’s just as many Santas enjoying their night.
This crowd seems a little older and gruffer. More middle-aged locals instead of the college kids home for break like the last place. There’s no one singing on stage, but they do have a jukebox and a dance floor. Preston gets our drinks again, this time coming back with something green.
“Let me guess, something to do with the Grinch?” He nods and I take a cautious sip. Notes of an unknown melon and ginger ale skate across my tongue. Not as good as my last drink, but I don’t refuse it. A rock version ofThe Christmas Songplays throughout the bar. Setting down my drink, I pull Preston toward the dance floor.
To my delight he doesn’t refuse. Instead, he pulls me in close, swaying us back and forth. The noisy room fades away, I close my eyes and rest my head against his broad chest. He hums softly to the song, the light vibrations lulling me into a dream-like state. When the song ends and switches back to something more raucous, he starts to pull away, but I tighten my hold.
I take a deep breath and peel my eyes open but as soon as I do the room starts to spin. The Christmas lights blur and my stomach summersaults.
“Are you okay?” Preston asks.
I shake my head sharply, another mistake. I push away from him and grope my way down a darkened hall to the restrooms.
Slamming the door and flipping the lock, I drop to my knees, quickly regretting those colorful drinks. Loud pounds ricochet from the locked door. “Clara, you okay in there?” Preston’s concern is palpable through the door.
“I’m fine, just give me a second.” I flush the toilet and walk to the sink. Still unsteady, but the spinning has eased. The cool water against my face settles me a bit, but I’d give just about anything to be able to brush my teeth. I swish a mouthful of lukewarm tap water, spitting out some of the nastiness.
A growing commotion outside the bathroom door piques my interest. I stumble over my feet and pull the door open, peeking through the crack. My freaking ghost of boyfriends past argues with my present. It looks like he’s trying to push his way through my lineman. Robert’s hands clench by his thighs, and the death glare he’s throwing Preston’s way seems to be about as intimidating as a chihuahuas bark.
In my alcohol-induced haze, their clipped words come out sounding more like theWah, Wah, Wahadult talk from Charlie Brown. And the laughter bubbles out of me.
Preston pivots partially blocking Robert’s view. He takes me in head to toe. “You’re as white as a snowman.” He deadpans tenderly.
“Clara. Are you okay?” Robert shoves in closer, worry etched between his brows.
“Robert, what are you doing here?” I groan, irritated the exit to my comfortable bed is blocked.
“I just saw you run down here. Wanted to make sure nothing happened,” he shoots directly at Preston.
For God’s sake, could they just whip ‘em out and measure already? My Christmas festive meter is dropping fast. I’m ready for bed.
“Thanks. I’m good.” I assure him and lean into Preston. My eyes falling to half-mast.
“How about we get you home?” Preston throws out, looking down at me. He guides me through the crowded bar back out onto the sidewalk. The bite of frosty air is a welcomed relief from the muggy bar. His warm arm rests around my shoulders, drawing me into his side where I nuzzle in like a kitten ready for a nap.
We make it back to the truck in one piece no thanks to my clumsy stumbling. “I’m never drinking again,” I mumble into the door as Preston buckles my seatbelt and turns on the truck to warm it up.
“I hear that a lot. Just close your eyes and try to sleep it off. I think I can get us back to your brother’s.” I don’t have it in me to respond. I pull my knees up on the bench seat and slump against the door, eyes closing as the truck lurches forward.
The world is bouncing under me. I feel weightless. Peeling an eye open, Damion’s house is in front of me. But my feet aren’t on the ground. It takes me a second to realize I’m in Preston’s arms in a bridal carry. He jostles me trying to get the key in the lock but drops them instead. “Shit.” I giggle and smile up at him, well the two of him. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to right my vision.
He squats, my body still balanced in his arms to grab the keys when the front door swings open revealing an unimpressed Damion and a giddy Natalie.
“Looks like you two had fun,” and, “I thought you were going to look out for her,” come from them at the same time. I shift in Preston’s arms as he gently sets me down, steadying me as I do my best to stand.
“I’m good,” I slur, giving a double thumbs up. “You guys should have seen all the Santas. Oh, and I had a Grinch. It’s green and bubbly, and soooo good.”