The Best Man {h.s.}

17

The following day at work goes surprisingly smooth considering the massive hangover that has been unwelcomingly lingering around since I woke up this morning. Jeremy has decided to take the day off, which would usually cause me to call him a traitor, but I frankly don't have the energy to contact him. Ava has been spending yet another day "working on stuff" with Dave in accounting, creating a ghost town in our little triangle of cubicles. Usually the silence would freak me out, but today I can't imagine a better way to get rid of the excessive pounding behind my eyes.

After my fifth cup of coffee and my second chocolate chip muffin from the break room, I start getting to work. My day turns out to be more productive than it has been in months; partly because I'm alone, and partly because if I don't focus on making phone calls, my hangover will drop in for a quick reminder that it's still around. I don't realize how busy I've been until I see people walk past my desk and wish me a happy 4th of July weekend. Just as I look at the clock, my phone pings and I quickly pick it up.

Harry: Hope your hangover wasn't too bad today. ;) See you around 7?

Last night instantly floods my mind. I know that I called him, but I can't remember for the life of me what I said. It couldn't have been too embarrassing, though, considering the fact that he still wants to see me tonight.

Me: Eh, I survived. 7 sounds perfect. :)

Pushing my remaining papers to the side, I gather my things and start making my way out of the office, stopping by accounting to say goodbye to Ava. When Dave comes into view, I find Ava resting her elbows on his desk, laughing about god-knows-what, with her cleavage fully exposed for Dave's pleasure. Before I go over to say something, I make a mental note to tell her later that she doesn't need to do things like that to get a guy to be interested. She's an amazing person with a kick-ass personality, and anyone who is lucky enough to spend even a small amount of time with her knows that. With a quick goodbye, I head out the door and take a deep breath, the warm summer air filling my lungs and making me aware that my hangover has finally evacuated my system. I stop by a small burger place on the way home and get something greasy to prepare me for tonight.

..........

"Ready?" Harry asks when I greet him at the bottom of the stairs. I'm happy to see him in his usual, dressed-down attire. I had thought briefly about wearing a dress tonight, but my Converse were calling my name.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I say with a chuckle. His hand intertwines with mine, a surge of electricity rushing through my veins at his touch. "Any ideas on where to start?"

"Not a clue." He laughs. "Let's just see where the night takes us."

We walk down the busy Philadelphia street until we reach the first bar that looks the slightest bit appealing on the outside. When we walk in, the place is surprisingly small. A bar sits off to the right and two tables cover the remaining space.

"Well, this is definitely not 'last fling before the ring' material." I say to Harry and he chuckles.

"Agreed." He continues walking into the bar and takes a seat on a barstool.

"Aren't we going to keep looking?" I point to the exit and look at him with confusion.

"Patience, Miss Emma. We're already here, so we might as well have a drink." He pats the seat next to him with a smile and I sigh, knowing that I could never say no to those dimples. I sit down and watch him carefully scan the back of the bar, looking for our first drink of the night. He orders two shots from the bartender, then looks over at me.

"I hope you're not too hungover for this." He says, amusement apparent in his tone. I roll my eyes and he chuckles.

"I think I'll be okay." I say with a smirk.