Page 64 of The Bro Pact
Ren hesitantly hands his camera over, and we watch as Nani flirts with the bartender next, asking her to take a group shot of us.
We all wrap our arms around each other, holding up our beers and smiling wide for the camera.
“This will be great on our string lights, huh?” Ren whispers to me.
I hum my agreement, chugging the rest of my beer and ordering something sweeter before Janie runs off to a less needy set of customers.
“Make that two!” Ren shouts at her back as she grabs new glasses.
“Hey, guys? Wanna see the patio?” Chelsea asks with a friendly smile once our beers are full again.
“Sure,” I say, pulling Ren after me since our hands are still intertwined.
We weave through a few people and a couple of them give us sideways glances, but no one here knows us, so I really don’t care.
I can hold a boy’s hand if I want to.
Kiss him too.
The longer the night goes on, the more intoxicated we all become.
I have no idea what number of beers any of us are on.
“Did your tongue piercing hurt?” Nani asks Ren. “I’ve been thinking of getting it done.”
“Not as bad as my nipple. I could only do one.” Ren shivers, likely remembering how he bawled his eyes out at the tattoo parlor in front of a bear of a man who had just shoved a needle through his flesh.
I cringe just thinking about it.
“Word.” Nani nods, taking it all in before she turns to me. “And how about you? Does it feel extra good when he sucks you off?”
I nearly spit a mouthful of beer into her face.
“Nani!” Chelsea shouts again, but it seems like she’s pretty used to her brazen bestie.
“I . . . Uh . . . I . . .It’s nice,” I settle on lamely.
Ren throws his head back, laughing loudly and drawing attention to our little group. He nearly tips backward in his chair before I reach out and grab a handful of his T-shirt, pulling him back to the ground.
“Nice?” Nani asks in disbelief, scoffing. “I’m sure this one’s mouth is more thannice.” She trails the points of her fingernails along Ren’s forearm.
“Nani, you’re embarrassing them and being inappropriate,” Chelsea whispers.
I’m thankful she seems a little more reserved and can reel her friend back in. The drunker Nani gets, the worse her filter becomes, until it’s almost nonexistent.
Nani cackles, her dark eyes glassy and unfocused.
“Whatever.” She chugs the rest of her beer, raising a hand to get one of the server’s attention. “I’m getting nachos.”
“I’m so sorry,” Chelsea says to the two of us as her friend orders. “She just broke up with her boyfriend, and we went out looking for a hook up.”
“It’s fine,” I assure her, although I wrap a protective arm around Ren’s shoulder, not wanting Nani to touch him again.
He’s mine to touch.
And his tongue is mine to enjoy.
We all share Nani’s nachos, and I ensure the girls have a safe ride home before I call an Uber of our own.
