The smile she’d been rocking falls off her face almost as fast as the color rises in her cheeks.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she damn near shrieks. “What an idiot! First of all, not like you’re probably not already aware, but you’re drop-dead gorgeous. And second, even if you weren’t, who says that?!”
I know I’m thirty-one and being self-conscious is supposed to end in high school, but loving the way I look has never been something that comes naturally to me. So having a stranger—a beautiful and successful one on top of that—tell me I’m gorgeous actually means a lot to me. Probably too much, if I’m being honest with myself.
“Thank you!” I finally let go of my death grip on the drink specials and throw my hands in the air. “That’s what I was thinking! I mean, in what world do you assume that a person is approaching you just to sleep with you?”
Brynn purses her lips and gives a wicked side-eye. “I’m married to a football player.” The fact that she acts like I have no idea who she is or that she’s married to Maxwell Lewis makes her that much more endearing. “So I’m not the kind of person who likes to paint all athletes with the same brush. So many of them are the shit. They can be the nicest, most generous, smartest guys in the world.” The way her eyes gloss over as she talks makes it clear she’s describing her husband. It’s disgusting . . . but also freaking adorable. “But there are also guys who have heads so big, it’s a miracle they can find a helmet to fit them. And their heads stay that big because people feed their egos all day, every day. And have been their entire life.”
I can read between the lines.
Quinton thought I was coming to try to sleep with him because people actually approach him to try to sleep with him.
“I guess I can see that happening. I mean, I am a woman on the Internet so I’ve gotten my share of unsolicited dick pics.”
“Are they ever not unsolicited?” Brynn asks.
That is the question of a person well versed in the subject of dick pics.
I also assume it’s rhetorical, because really. They’re never solicited.
“So women approaching him in public is like getting a dick pic in his life?”
“What an odd conversation to come in the middle of.” Liv slides into the chair next to me.
“Oh! Hi!” I lean over and give her a hug. “You’ve never come into a room unnoticed before.”
“Well, I was prepared to shout, but then I heard the subject at hand and decided to keep my mouth closed.” She grabs the menu from me, but the gleam in her eyes lets me know she’s not finished. “As one does when dicks are being thrown around.”
“Alright! Topic change!” I can’t hear that word again. Ever. In life. “Brynn, this is Liv. Liv, this is Brynn. We were just discussing my lunch meeting with Quinton and how it started as a disaster.”
Liv’s eyes triple in size and for the first time, concern crosses her face. “He didn’t try to—”
“No, no. Not even close.” I cut her off before she lets herself go there.
Olivia’s shoulders sag in relief, and guilt causes mine to fall along with hers.
My experience at my last job wasn’t a great one. Ever since I can remember, I’ve always wanted to work in sports. And being raised by a man who never questioned or doubted my intelligence or capabilities at working in the sports world, I’d say I was woefully underprepared for what awaited me. The harassment I dealt with, in part because of my gender, part because of my ethnicity, was terrible on a good day. And considering my dad was diagnosed with cancer while I was there, it was soul crushing.
Liv stood by me every step of the way. Even coming over to force me into the shower when things got really bad. Even though I know she’s happy for me for landing my dream job, I know she’s holding her breath, terrified that I’ll fall apart again.
And Brynn, like the bartending goddess that she is, clearly reads the change of tone. “You know what?” She pulls out two martini glasses from beneath the bar. “I think we need cocktails before we continue. What are you ladies drinking? This one’s on me.”
Liv perks up immediately.
Hey. We’re millennials. Home ownership might not ever be in the plans for most of us, so we find pleasure where we can. And a complimentary cocktail is definitely one of them.
“I love everything I’ve ever had from here.” Liv pushes away the menu. “Gin is my booze of choice. Could you surprise me?”
“Oh my goodness!” Brynn practically vibrates with glee. “Yes! None of my friends will drink gin, so I’ve needed a person like you to experiment with!”
I can see the dreams of unlimited free cocktails floating across Liv’s face and just like that, all fears of me again falling apart have disappeared.
“What about you?” Brynn looks at me over her shoulder as she reaches for a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. “Wanna be a test dummy?”
“As much fun as that sounds”—I do have a secret dream of having a drink named after me—“I think I need to stick with comfort today . . . and with something that I know won’t result in a hangover. Scotch on the rocks, please.”
Her hand freezes above the gin. “Seriously?”
I glance at Liv, who is giving me the “I told you only old white dudes order that and you need a new drink” look, before cringing a bit and looking back to Brynn. “Yeah, I’m a whiskey girl.”
“This is even better than the gin! I’ve been wanting to have a whiskey tasting for so long and nobody will do one with me!” She grabs the gin and spins around to face us. “I’ve been buying
