tomorrow he’s going to be hating life.
I put my phone in my pocket and go back inside the bar. The minute I step foot inside, nearly every woman’s head turns to look at me. Well, all but one.
Logan hangs his arm over my shoulder, and his breath rams into me like a four-hundred pound linebacker. “Fun party, right?! I’m having a killer time, bro.” Anytime Logan is drunk, he talks like an eighteen-year-old frat boy that sneaks watermelon wine coolers. He raises his glass into the air. “Best bachelor party ever!” he yells and then woooos at the top of his lungs right beside my ear. I’m deaf now.
He continues to hang on me as we make our way around the bar. “Where’s Stacy? I think we need to get you back on that leash of yours.”
“She went to the bathroom.” He then abruptly stops and catches my arm to get me to stop walking. His face is so serious now I’m worried he might be about to hurl all over me. “Ryan, bro”—he never calls me bro—“have I ever told you how much you mean to me?” Oh, good. We’ve entered the heartfelt portion of his drunkenness. I need to get him home before the next phase hits: Naked Logan.
“Yeah, yeah, we’re besties. Let’s go get you some water.”
He shakes his head. Clearly, he’s not said all that was in his heart. “I’m serious, man. If there’s ever anything I can do for you. Just name it. Seriously. Like, do you need my shirt? It’s yours!”
And yep, he’s unbuttoning it. I guess “Naked Logan” is already in motion.
“Stop taking off your shirt.” I grab him by the shoulder and start dragging him toward the table where a few of the other groomsmen are huddled and drunk-swiping through Tinder together. One guy is about to send a message to a woman that he will most definitely regret in the morning, so I snatch his phone and pocket it. He frowns and protests, saying something about me being a killjoy.
I spot Stacy’s bridesmaids across the room, all writing their numbers on the bar’s wall in Sharpie. This is not a “draw on the wall” sort of bar, and I’m pretty sure they are seconds away from being kicked out.
But I knew this would happen. That’s why I cut myself off after one drink. Someone needs to be the voice of reason in the group. That, and because I haven’t partied since I was in my early twenties. Life hasn’t exactly given me any downtime to go out late with friends. I’m not even sure I know how to let loose anymore.
“Sit,” I say, depositing Logan in a chair. He looks up at me, and now he’s a pouty toddler that’s just had his lollipop ripped from his hand. “I’ll go find Stacy and then call you two a ride.” A few of the guys at the table boo me. “Looks like I’m calling everyone rides.”
In the next moment, the music cuts off, and I hear someone blowing into a microphone. I turn around and spot June up on the karaoke stage, mic clutched between both her hands, smiling like her mouth is numb from dental surgery and she’s halfway under the effects of anesthesia. She still looks every bit as cute as she did at the beginning of the night, though. If not a little more, because now, she’s taken off her high heels and loosened up. She looks more like the girl I secretly crushed on in high school, and it’s making my stomach twist.
“Helllloooo, ladies and gentlemen! Who wants to have fun tonight?!” she yells into the microphone. My ears bleed when a sharp whine tears through the speakers. Everyone else in this bar is so far gone, though, that they don’t notice. They hoot and catcall like Lady Gaga herself has just stepped on the stage.
“Good!” June rips the mic from the stand and paces. She actually looks pretty natural up there. “‘Cause we’re gonna party ALL NIGHT!”
No, we won’t. The bar closes in thirty minutes.
“But first”—her eyes cut right to me for the first time since the beginning of the night when I removed the toilet paper from her shoe —“I want to introduce you all to my friend, Ryan Henderson!! Come on up here, Chefy!!”
I should have known she had something planned. What does she think will happen? I’ll go up there and she will stick the mic in my hand and trick me into singing