I've Got Summer

T H I R T E E N

C H R I S

It was almost like torture knowing Summer was in the hospital, waiting to know if her dad could breathe with one and a half lung. Dave distracted me, though, and after we'd come a long way nailing new wood to the new beams, he invited me to the town bar for drinks.

To my own surprise, I said yes.

He insisted on driving, so I wouldn't drive my truck after too many beers later. I thanked him for it, but he waved it off, like it was the least he could do. I didn't agree, but I didn't want to argue. I'd return the favor next time, instead.

So there I was, sipping my third beer by the bar while Dave talked to the blonde bartender about his day, putting on his best and most charming smile. She was young, tall and beautiful; definitely model material. I was watching with interest, letting it show I wasn't angry he spent his time with her instead. It was better he wasted his breath on her than me, anyway. Even if I did actually have fun seeing him stumble over his words.

"My friend here, Chris," Dave suddenly said, putting a hand on my shoulder, "he's pining over a girl. Do you have any advice for him?"

The bartender sized me up and tilted her head to one side as if to think it over. I'd already looked away by the time she asked, "What's she like?"

Dave answered instantly. "She's pretty, not as pretty as you, but close. And very stubborn."

She gave Dave a look, accompanied by a smirk, and I knew that look by heart. It meant she was open to bringing him home that evening. Smooth. He was good, I had to admit that, but I wasn't a fan of the whole one night stand thing.

"Show her that you're interested by remembering the small things. Her likes and dislikes. Her coffee order. Be a gentleman." She winked at me, as if I wasn't familiar with the term, and then added, "No girl can deny either of you for too long."

Then she turned away, and just as I took a large swig of my beer, Dave rested his chin on his hand and said, slightly dreamily, "I'm gonna marry her one day. I swear."

I clapped him on his shoulder and said, "Sure you are, buddy."

The evening changed quickly after that. The bar filled up with every man and woman my age in the whole town—at least that's what it looked like. I smoked some guy's ass at pool, struggled to save face against Dave, drank more, and had a great time. I hadn't had such a good time at a bar in a long, long while. And it felt good.

It felt amazing, actually, and all I wanted to do was invite Summer so I could dance with her, and show her I knew how to have a good time—and share it with her.

By midnight I was thoroughly drunk. My vision blurred slightly, and through my laughter, I was slurring my words, too. It had been too long since I had so much to drink that I was this intoxicated, and I found myself blaming the lack of practice. But it was still fun.

Even when a woman in a very tight dress and high heels came up to me and looked me up and down in that way women do when they're on the prowl. I raised a brow in response, too drunk to trust my tongue had gotten the memo that I was finished with that part of my life. She ran her tongue over her upper lip, twirling a strand of her long, straight hair around her finger and asked, "What's your name, handsome?"

I felt my chest tighten. Her intentions were clear and I had no idea how to politely decline a woman at a bar. I'd always just said yes and got it over with. But now—now I had a reason to say no.

Before I could open my own mouth, Dave came up next to me, holding his hand out in warning as he slurred, "This one's taken, Barbie."

Not entirely true, but she looked us both up and down and probably thought we were gay, but I didn't complain as she turned on her too high heel and walked over to someone else. Dave started laughing, and ordered another drink from his future wife, and I chuckled a little, too, placing myself on a barstool as the bartender poured us something a bit stronger than beer.