Chapter Eighteen: Sour Whiskey

“And the reason is yoooooou...and the rea....son...hmmm...” I hummed along to myself, my head on the counter.

I had one double shot of gin, and then our regular bartender recognized me and refused to serve me any more since I was so drunk. I think I’d been laying there for twenty minutes or so. I was sobering up and it wasn’t fun. The desire to go home was strong, but then I remembered my empty apartment and my enthusiasm to leave waned.

A bunch of people from our table went home. I was pretty sure Sebastian and Lilith were still there, but I was ignoring them. My maturity abounds.

“I’m not a perfect person...” I couldn’t remember most of the lyrics to that song so I continued jumping from verse to chorus and back to the first line again.

“Whiskey sour.”

I recognized that voice nearby. Couldn’t place it, though. A boy voice. I liked listening to it...

Frowning, I sat up and looked around. A guy had the seat to my left. Unnaturally red hair cut short…eyebrow ring…I knew him. There were a pair of fresh scratches on his cheek, and after studying him for a moment, I remembered him.

“King of Cups.”

Okay, I didn’t actually remember his name.

He glanced over at me. A smile came over his lips—a slightly predatory one. “Briar.”

He remembered my name, though. I was made of fail...

“I’m trying to remember your name but I just keep thinking ‘that pretty guy from the other day.’”

“Pretty?” He picked up the glass that the bartender slid in front of him. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

“I think it’s a good thing. A very good thing. There are far too few pretty boys around.”

“As much as I love the adjective ‘pretty’, let’s use Toby.”

“Oh! Right! Hi, Toby.”

“Bad night, babe?”

“Did you guess that based on my inebriation?”

“You’re sitting at the bar by yourself.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “Bad night.”

“Did you sing bad karaoke in front of your ex and make an idiot of yourself?”

“No.”

“I win.”

Toby finished his drink. “No karaoke in front of an ex. I think I might have preferred that.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. When would they give me more gin? “You should have been here half an hour ago.”

His glass was half full of ice now, and he absently stirred it with one of those red plastic sword thingies that they put in cocktails. I wished I had some so that I could stab certain people in the eyes with them.

“So it looks like I’m not going to get what I came to Toronto for,” he said.

“Didn’t find the building?”

“Found it. My...quarry eludes me,” he said carefully. “Guess your cards were right.”

I glanced at my table. Few people were left. Sebastian sat alone. Probably moping over the slut. And the slut was off with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. I hated everything.

The words left my mouth before I realized what I was doing. “Let’s see how right they are.”

He met my gaze and held it steadily. My mind was racing. So was my heart. Bad idea, bad idea... Stupid decision, so maybe I wasn’t sobering all that much...

I waited for the inevitable sting of rejection. It never came. Instead, he pulled a five from his pocket, left it on the bar, and then turned to me. He opened his mouth to speak, but I leaned forward suddenly and kissed him.

Lips against lips, that long awaited physical contact with someone, was welcome. Though I initiated it, his hands moved to my head and he pulled me closer.

I breathed in sharply when our lips parted.

“Where?” he asked in a low voice.

“My place is close.” I can’t be doing this... I flirted a lot, but I didn’t take strange men back to my apartment. I didn’t have one night stands. This wasn’t, me, but...

But I didn’t want to be me anymore. And I didn’t want to be Tina Fey either.

He gestured to the door. “After you.”

I was glad I was going first. With him behind me, I didn’t have to look at him, and then I wouldn’t chicken out. But then maybe it would be good if I chickened out...

My gaze darted to the people remaining at my table, and then away as we walked passed them. I felt a hand on the small of my back; I missed that kind of intimacy.

Though my feet felt heavy, I pushed on, out of the bar and outside to wait for a cab.

“Did she just leave with some strange guy?” Sebastian gaped at the door.

“It...seems that way.” That didn’t seem like the Briar thing to do. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“I think he was in the store a few days ago. He bought stuff.”

“Maybe she knows him, then,” I said. “Maybe he’s an old friend, back in town.”

“Maybe he’s a serial killer,” Sebastian said. “We should follow them. Make sure they’re okay. And then we could arrest him. Citizen’s arrest because he’s a serial killer. I bet there’s an A.P.B. or something on him. We should call the cops.” He picked at his nachos. A layer of broken corn chips lay across the platter with cheese and veggies that had been sitting there for an hour. At least he hadn’t reached for the phone, so I knew he wasn’t serious about the police thing.

“Briar can take care of herself,” I said. I hope.

“Why is it all the girls went home with stupid douche bags tonight? First Noelle, and now Briar.”

I’d reached my limit on drinks awhile ago, and had been drinking only water since to avoid getting any more than buzzed, therefore it was easy to hold my tongue. I avoided any mention of how he could have been going home with Briar if he’d been more observant.

“You should probably get a cab home,” I said. “I think our ‘party’ is pretty much over.”

“Do you think...” He glanced at me. “I should just get over Noelle?”

I sighed heavily. I disliked being asked for love advice; I never knew what to say. “You should follow your heart.”

“That’s...kinda cheesy.”

“If you love Noelle, I’m sure Briar would be happy to keep working with you on getting her back.” And if she’s going to be moving in with me, some work will equal rent money.

“Well...” Sebastian seemed to be chewing on his words. “Okay, do you think you can like more than one person at once?”

These kids were killing me. I wished I had some of Briar’s ability to speak without thinking or caring.

Before I could think to answer tactfully, a voice interrupted me.

“Look into my eyes...”

We both turned to see the figure singing on the stage.

“You will see...”

Alastair had the microphone in a vice grip. Sweat had clumped some of the make-up on his forehead. His eyes were huge and unblinking as he sang in a nasally voice—they dominated his head.

“What...you mean...to-ooo meeee...”

I’d have been embarrassed for him, but Briar had used up most of my cringing for the night. I turned back to Sebastian.

“I should probably go home,” he said.

And so should I. We both rose, and I took Sebastian outside to make sure he reached a taxi safely.

The King of Cups tasted like Whiskey Sour.

I kept calling him that in my head. Sometimes I’m bad with names. Considering we were walking up the steps to my apartment to hook-up, I figured I’d better make an effort to remember his.

Toby...right, that’s his name.

Inside my apartment, my gaze went immediately to my phone. The light on the cradle blinked, so there was definitely a message there.

I wanted to check. It could be Devlin. It could be...well, probably someone other than Devlin. But...

Toby reached for the light switch before me and flicked it on, flooding the living room with light. I felt subconscious suddenly. All the beer had worn off and the situation was getting awkward really quickly.

I set my keys on the coffee table. I opened my mouth, to offer him a drink because I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to do.

Hands grasped my shoulders, and he spun me around and kissed me. Caught off guard, I took in a rough breath. His fingers sank into my hair possessively and the kiss deepened. Different lips than Devlin’s, different technique, different everything.

But I adjusted to the change quickly. I twisted my arms free to strip off his shirt, and kicked off my shoes. My hands settled on his chest, feeling the taut quivering muscles there, and my fingertip brushed a nipple ring. That was hot.

A growl of desire sounded in his throat. I backed up towards the bedroom. He followed, yanking our clothes off as we went. The back of my knees hit the edge of my low-sitting bed. His fingers dragged down the zipper of my jeans, then grasped the top and peeled them down. I fell back on the bed and lifted my legs for him to pull off the rest of my jeans. The remainder of his clothes followed, and he stood at the end of bed, very naked.

“There are condoms in the jewellery box on the dresser behind you,” I said.

Toby gave me a crooked grin and made no move to get one. He moved forward, hands running up my legs, and crawled towards me. His lips found my knee, then my inner thigh, as one hand travelled higher.

I leaned my head back and sighed—the physical contact felt so good, and I ached for more.

“Behind you,” I repeated.

“Aw, I’m clean—I promise, sweetheart. Want a note from my doctor?” His fingers played over my panties. “I’ll get you one.”

I grinned. “I’m not worried about something your doctor would be looking for.” I placed my foot on his chest and firmly pushed him into a standing position. I stretched my leg out to keep him at bay and his back hit my dresser.

“Honey,” he began. “Really, I’m clean—”

“I’m a little more concerned about catching lycanthropy,” I said.

A beat of silence, then, “Huh?”

“You’re a werewolf.”