Learning to be Beautiful

Learning to be Beautiful ~9~

"You're the most bizarre girl I have ever met, do you know that?" Linc asked conversationally as he took another swig from his shot glass, emptying it in one go. "When I'm drunk, most people run away from me, but you..." he waved his arm in a large sweeping motion, "you just won't leave me alone no matter how much I beg you to."

He slammed the small glass down on the brightly-lit white bar-top and waved at the bartender for another. "You..." Linc wagged his finger at me with a shrewd smile twisting his lips, "You like me."

I groaned and ran a hand down my face exasperatedly, "How many of those have you had?" I had already counted four since I had sat down next to him, and with every shot, his words blurred together more.

Instead of answering me, Linc continued on this little tangent, "You think that I am a stud muffin." He declared loudly, gaining the attention of Callie who was standing a few feet away. She glanced over at us, spotted me and waved her hand wildly over her head a gigantic grin glued onto her face. "You think..." Another gulp, another shot. "That I am a sexy beast of a man." He smirked at his own drunkenly slurred words, and poked me in the arm forcefully, "Don't you? That's why you won't leave me 'lone. You think I'll confess my undying love for you while I'm drunk." He pulled back suddenly, his chin sinking into his neck so that it seemed like he had two chins instead of one, "Well let me tell you, missy..." He thumped his chest forcefully with a fist, "This guy, don't love no one."

"This guy doesn't have very good grammar either, apparently," Callie chirped happily, taking a seat on Linc's other side.

At the sound of her voice, Linc's eyes widened and he swiveled around in his chair to throw his arms around her in a sloppy hug, "Calphurnia!" He crowed delightedly, burying his face into her thin neck. "I haven't seen you in forever!" He began to sob against her, the sheer force of them shaking both of them.

Callie's nose wrinkled and she pushed the drunken, weeping Brit away from her with one index finger, "How much have you had to drink, Linc?" She asked, looking him in the eyes.

"Juss two 'r three..." He assured her, patting her hand against his chest, "Don' worry abou' it."

Rolling her eyes, the small woman shifted her weight so that she was looking past him at me, "Aislyn, how many did he have?" Her whiskey-colored eyes were so intense that I immediately felt compelled to tell her anything and everything she could ever want to know.

"I counted four, and he was already drinking by the time I got here." I replied promptly, feeling as if I had just tattled on a sibling to our mother.

"Four?" She snorted and turned back to Linc. "You've only had four shots and you're already this drunk?" She smirked and pinched his cheeks, moving his head back and forth. "You are such a light-weight."

"Am not!" Linc complained indignantly. He shoved Callie away from him and turned in his chair so that he was facing me again. "Tell her I'm not a light-weight." He whined, pointing a shaking finger at her. "I'm a hun'red and," he frowned and started to count on his fingers. He reached a certain number and his face brightened noticeably. "Eighty! I'm a hun'red and eighty pounds." He smiled, proud of his counting skills and placed his hands on either side of his waist and swiveled again to face Callie, "I'm not a light weight. I'm fat!"

"Yeah, real fat..." Callie scoffed, turning in her own chair to set her elbows on the bar.

"Ms. Palmin thinks I'm fat, don't you, Ms. Palmin?" Linc turned to look at me with pleading eyes. The brilliant green orbs started to water and I started to wonder just how drunk he really was.