Page 48 of One More Chance
Harper
I havea strawberry flavored dick in my mouth. Not a real one, of course. Although it would certainly make blow jobs more entertaining.
No, I have a strawberry flavored dick shaped lollipop in my mouth. Because that’s what we do at bachelorette parties. We wear tight leather pants and crop tops, sashes displaying our titles, too much makeup, and shove phallic shaped candy in our mouths, all while sipping brightly colored overpriced drinks.
Remind me again why I’m doing this? Oh right, my sister is getting married, I’m divorced, and I don’t give a fuck about life right now. Maybe it’s the aforementioned colorful drinks, but I’m dancing, singing off-key, and some guy named Teddy from a college fraternity is grinding on my ass. And, I really don’t care. Which is so unlike me. Bless the booze.
“Let’s get some air,” Lyla shouts over the music, her plastic tiara swaying on her head. Fuck yes, she’s wearing a tiara.
I nod and we make our way toward the patio, squeezing between people. Teddy calls out to me, but he’ll have to find someone else to dry hump for now.
We push open the doors and a blast of cool night air hits me in the face. I inhale deeply, feeling the essence of sweaty bodies fall away from me.
“Having fun?” Lyla asks, giggling and sipping her drink.
“Yeah, actually. Mine wasn’t like this. It should’ve been, though.”
“Hell yes it should’ve,” she says. “That stuck up asshole Charles sucked the fun out of you. He was literally a fun sucker.”
“Speaking of suckers,” I say. “This lollipop is actually delicious.”
Lyla sticks her blue raspberry one in her mouth, her lips and mouth all stained blue. She looks like she gave a smurf a blow job but I don’t have the heart to tell her that. The blue dick in her hand sways like she does because we’re all sauced at this point. Last time I saw Cora in the crowd, she was rubbing up on two different frat guys. Apparently college boys have no issues with your age, marital status, or level of intoxication. If you have a pulse, you’re fair game.
I check my phone for the time, realizing the clubs will be closing soon. I’m proud I’m not so drunk I see two phones but I have a heavy enough buzz that everything is very fun. I’m carefree, which isn’t my natural state.
“We have to go soon,” I huff, disappointed that the night is nearly over.
“Gonna hook up with that teddy bear frat boy?” Lyla asks.
I crinkle my nose. Gross. “No, thank you. I have my hands full enough.” I laugh at my own mess of a life.
“With Steve?”
“And Jensen,” I add.
“Jensen?” she repeats. “I thought that was over? Or well, never really started?” She leans in closely as she adjusts her weight from one foot to the other.
I sigh loudly. Right, I thought the same thing. You can always depend on alcohol to make you feel your truths. “I fucking like him,” I say on the tail end of an exhale.
“So go for it.” She waves her hand. “He’s fucking hot. And you should definitely sample the goods.”
“Oh my god.”
“What? Just do it. You know you want to,” she says.
She’s not wrong. I really do want to. It’s an itch I desperately want to scratch. A sexy itch. What am I even talking about right now?
Planting myself on a bench, I navigate through my messages and stare at the names. Jensen and Steve are both right there—one right above the other. Theoretically, I can make whichever move I want. Fuck it.
Me:Hey
Several minutes pass before I get an answer, which makes sense considering he’s probably not waiting around with his phone in his face.
Jensen:Hey!
Me:What are you doing?
Jensen:We just left a bar in an Uber and we’re headed back to the cabin.