Page 27 of I Wanna Be Your Lager

Eve stretches on her tippy toes, and the hem of her shirt rides up, exposing a small patch of skin on her belly. I itch to lean down and drag my lips over her soft skin. My dick twitches in my pants. All she needs to do is exist, and I want her. She stretches a little more until her fingers brush against the bottle of Scotch. It inches closer and closer to the edge of the shelf. She changes her position, but her toe catches the edge of the rubber mat. Gravity takes over, and the bottle tumbles off the shelf. Her arms windmill as she tries to regain her balance while catching the bottle.

I abandon the drink in front of me, and in two leaping strides, I wrap an arm around her waist. With a loud smash, the bottle crashes to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. The spray of liquid soaks my jeans. The smokey aroma wafts around us. Her hand latches onto my bicep, and her eyes pinch shut, bracing for impact. A second later, her lashes flutter open. Her hazel eyes stare back at mine.

“You caught me.” Her words are soft and breathy.

“Always.”

Her nose scrunches, and her lips purse. “Jake’s going to be so mad at me. He warned me about breaking any more bottles.”

“I’ll tell him I did it,” I blurt.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t, but I will.”

Her pink lips curve into a soft smile. Fuck. I’ve missed her smile, especially when it’s directed at me.

“Instead of those ‘Number of Days without an Accident’ signs, we should get one for you that says ‘Number of Dayswithout an Eve Accident.’” Fuck. I’m rambling. I don’t ramble. But I want to keep talking to her. Just like this. With her in my arms.

“Today it would go back to zero.” She smiles. “Um. Can you help me stand?”

Shit. I forgot she’s still in my arms. It’s easy to get lost in her. I hoist her to the standing position. I’m reluctant to let her go. Her touch and closeness are what I’ve missed.

She steps out of my grasp. Bending down, she collects the larger pieces of broken glass. “Your pants are soaked.” She pulls a towel off the bar, brushing it over my shins and up my thighs, inching higher and higher.

My dick gets the wrong idea. I take a step back so I’m out of her reach. “It’s alright. Why don’t you get the mop? I’ll clean up the glass.” Mostly, I need her to stop touching me. She nods and rises to her feet. We work together to clean up the mess. For the rest of the night, there’s a little less hate tension between us, but the palpable sexual tension is at an all-time high. Before we close for the night, I leave a note for Jake that I owe him a bottle of Scotch.

SIXTEEN

HOLDING PINKIES

Lach

My phone rings next to me, and I glance at the screen. Jake’s name flashes across the top. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been doing my best to avoid him. Mostly because I’m trying to figure out all this shit with Eve. I fear I’ll spill everything to him, and he’ll split my lip. Losing my best friend isn’t an option. He is one of the few constants in my life, and my life would be shit without him.

I press talk. “Hey, what’s up?”

“The hockey game is on tonight. I ordered a couple of pizzas. Want to come over?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Shit. Eve. I certainly can’t ask if she’ll be there, or it might look suspicious. Racking my brain, I try to remember if I saw her name on the schedule tonight. Either way, I hope she’s working. “I’ll be over in a little bit.”

I park my truck at the curb at the front of the house. I should have driven around back to see if Jake’s truck is here. After hiking up the few stairs, I rap my knuckles against the aged wood door, announcing my entrance before I twist the knob and step inside to the small entryway, catching the scent of tomato sauceand melted cheese. As I shrug out of my jacket, I glance around to see if Eve’s here. Both the couch and chair are empty. No other voices can be heard, only the announcer on the TV. Jake strolls into the living room with a pizza box in one hand and a beer in the other. He tosses the unopened can in my direction. I juggle the beer before securing it between my hands.

“Just in time. It’s about to start.” Jake nods toward the TV.

“Great.” I crack open the beer and take a long swig before throwing myself on the couch. Jake takes a seat on the opposite side. Asking him about Eve is on the tip of my tongue. But I shouldn’t. Instead, I wait.

By the start of the second period, Eve’s a no-show. I lean against the couch, sinking into the cushion. The rumble of an engine sounds from outside. My gaze shifts to Jake, and he’s staring at the TV. I glance over my shoulder at the back door. After a few beats pass, my nerves settle. Then the door opens and clicks shut.

“Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened tonight.” Eve steps through the doorway from the kitchen to the living room. “A couple came in and got a table. They had a few drinks and talked, even laughed. After a little while he slides?—”

Our eyes lock, and she freezes. She bites her lips together, fighting her smile. My foot bounces. I want to jump up and kiss her. Tell her I’m an idiot and I don’t regret our kiss from a few days ago. But Jake’s next to me.

She hangs her jacket in the closet next to the front door. “Anyway, he slid divorce papers across the table. Then he just got up and left. Who does that?” She saunters into the living room and shimmies past me. Her tight jeans that hug her hips are at my eye level. Hockey. Ice. Sweat. Pucks. I need to think of anything other than what color panties she’s wearing underneath her jeans. Her gaze wanders from my knees, up mytorso, past my chest, until we lock eyes for a few beats. I pray she’s going to keep walking and sit in the armchair next to Jake.

She spins around, and the center cushion depresses as she takes a seat. “What are we watching?”

“Hockey,” Jake says without taking his eyes off the TV.

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