is he happy to run into me? No, he accuses me of wasting my life. He tells me someone needs to talk some sense into me before I embarrass him. Can you believe that? I’m embarrassing him. Like he isn’t doing that enough on his own, cavorting around with his secretary, a woman five years older than I am. He basically told me to get a real job and stop acting like a child.”
“Yeah? I hope you told him to fuck himself.”
“Not in those exact words. I told him that I don’t care what he thinks. That it’s my life, and if he doesn’t like it, there’s nothing he can do.”
The bartender fills our glasses again. I’m feeling a little tingly, like I could tell my dad and Gerald and whoever else to go to hell.
“Fuck, girl. That’s hardcore.”
“I had to. I wish he would just be proud of me for once, but that’s obviously never going to happen.”
There’s a new kind of appreciation in his eyes. “He should be. What I’m saying is that you’ve got balls. You come across as this mild-mannered little church mouse, but damn, you know what you want. And you go after it. And fuck your dad if he don’t see that as a good thing.”
I smile. I think I kind of love Luke Cross right now.
“He makes everything I do seem like a failure. All I’ve ever done is try to impress him, but it never works. And now I’m too scared to step out and leave school because I’m afraid I’m going to fail. Because in his eyes, I always fail. Always. So it’s the only thing I can do.”
“Some people you can’t impress, no matter what you do.”
He’s trying to make me feel better. I admire that. “Really, what do you know about that? You impress everyone.”
He laughs. “Not your dad.”
I cringe. Did he hear the awful things my dad said about him?
“That’s the thing! He doesn’t even know you! He wants me to marry up. Marry a guy like him who treats his wife like crap? No thanks,” I say miserably. “I’ve been thinking about it. And you’re right. I am frigid. And Gerald is an asshole. You know, I dated him for six months, and five months into it I gave in and gave him my virginity. Because I was saving myself for real love, and I really did think that I loved him and he loved me. But I always felt like I was doing something wrong. ‘Move that way.’ ‘Not there.’ ‘Do it this way.’ All sex ever was was him barking orders at me. Of course I felt like I was doing something wrong. Everyone in my life except my best friend is constantly telling me what a screwup I am.”
He’s just staring at me. And I’m slightly aware it’s TMI, but I can’t stop. I look at my glass contemplatively.
“You know why he broke up with me? Probably because I wouldn’t give him a blow job. I loved him, and he tossed me away because I wouldn’t suck his thingy. But really, if a guy was always telling you that you weren’t doing it right, would you want to give him a BJ?” I wag a finger at him. “Now, seriously, would you?”
He holds up his hands. “Fuck no. For more reasons than that.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “You’re right. He ruined me.”
“Nah,” he says. “You are far from ruined, girl. Some people just want to put you in a box. When people are like that to you, it’s your goddamn duty to break out of it. Say, fuck them.”
I lean on the bar, thinking.
“Yeah, right? Fuck them,” I say finally, being like him and draining my glass without the lime. It’s like water now. In fact, I can do this all day. I’m giddy at the thought.
He spins on the bar, so now my knees are between his legs. “Sweetheart? You’ve had three shots in fifteen minutes. Take it easy. Tequila’ll hit you like a ton of bricks.”
I give him a look and toss my ponytail wildly, like a sex kitten, something I never do. But I suddenly feel so free. Frisky and free and . . . hot. It might be that there are guys in the bar looking at my cleavage in this revealing pink top, or that I’m here with the hottest guy in the whole place. I put my hands on his thighs and lean forward so he can get a good