I lock Ezra’s car and head inside. Once I’m through the doors, I’m hit with the wave of stale smoke. I’ll definitely need to wash my hair tonight. There’s no way I can show up to meeting my advisor smelling like ass in the morning. The Grill is your basic rundown bar that has music, cheap beer, and burgers.
As soon as you walk in the bar, there’s an ATM to the right. The middle of the room serves as the seating area and a few booths line the opposite wall of the bar. In the far back corner is a stage and small dance floor. To the left is a hallway that leads to the bathrooms and the pool hall that is in the basement where the poker games happen.
“Welcome to ladies’ night. What’s your pleasure, doll?” The man behind the bar calls in my direction as I scan the room in search of Holden. The Grill is as dirty and crowded as I remember. The appeal is all the cheap drinks. Peanut shells crunch under my heels as I step forward. The bar top is dark and that’s probably a good thing. I don’t want to think about all the germs it holds.
I really don’t want a drink but find myself in need of one just by being here. A couple of rough looking bikers are eating a pizza, smiling in my direction. I ignore them and search the booths. I still don’t see my roomie.
“Screwdriver,” I shout over the blaring of the jukebox as I Love Rock ‘n Roll starts to play. “Is Holden here?”
The guy shakes his head with a laugh as he pours my drink. “Yeah, he’s her
e.”
“Thanks.” I don’t bother asking what he finds so amusing. I lay three ones on the bar and take my drink.
With my drink in my hand, I sip it through the tiny red straw and continue to walk further to the back and down the hall to the basement. There’s a game of poker happening but my elusive roommate isn’t sitting in any of the chairs. The guys playing don’t give me a second glance and return to their game. No one is playing pool, so I head back upstairs. I turn toward the stage, but that area is empty.
Maybe he isn’t even here. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone home with a stranger. Maybe he is off somewhere getting laid.
I’ve witnessed too many of his walks of shame, especially when we went on spring break together. Cancun was amazing. Other than the girls, Holden was actually kinda fun on that trip. He came to my rescue and took me swimming with the dolphins when Ezra was too hungover to get out of bed. He said it was food poisoning, I beg to differ. Not that it matters now.
I guess Holden has his moments. Right now, however, as I am walking to the bathroom isn’t one of his finest ones. As I am walking toward the ladies, he walks out of the men’s room, zipping his pants with a floozie following close behind him wiping her lips.
He brushes a hand through his sandy hair and smiles at me. Holden is gorgeous in that rough lumberjack way. His hair is never styled, but the chunky pieces that lay in misdirected sections, make it appear as though he puts in a lot of effort to get it that way. He stands over six-feet two-inches tall and is a wall of muscle. He has a face you don’t forget, a strong jaw that is shadowed by his five o’clock shadow. The man looks as if he were carved from stone by the God’s themselves. He’s truly an Adonis, until he opens his mouth.
“Con—lee,” he draws out my name in greeting.
“Key, please.” I hold out my palm only for him to lock his fingers with mine and push me back in the direction of the bar. His white tee stretches across his chest and I have to look away from his brute like muscles as they flex with the movement. I’ve known the man for a few years and still, he makes me flush at times.
“Shit,” he hisses, continuing to walk me backwards, forcing me to bump into strangers like an asshole.
“Yeah, you’re in deep shit. You’ve made my list. I’ve been trying to message you.”
He only looks at me with his steely grey eyes, giving me an apologetic smile.
“I need a key to get in.”
“My phone died.” He grins producing it from his pocket with his other hand instead of the key I desperately want.
I snatch my hand away. “I don’t want your phone. Just a key to get in the apartment.”
Some other overplayed 80’s song starts up and Holden attempts to dance with me, spilling my drink on my shirt. Typical Holden.
“Stop it!” I try to yell at him over the loud music.
“Come on.” He takes my drink from me and downs it.
Jerkface. Gah, he infuriates me.
“I was drinking that.” I nearly stomp at him.
He smirks his signature smirk that gets him his way with all the ladies, but not with me. I don’t fall under his spell. He slowly drags his tongue across his bottom lip to capture the last of my drink. “What kind of friend would I be if I let my best friend’s girl drink and drive.”
I glare at him. “It’s like two blocks.”
“Dance with me, and I’ll buy you another.” He tries to pull me closer. He’s impossible. His thick arm cages around my waist, pulling me into his body. The heat of his body nearly ignites my clothing as he grinds against me.
My attempts to push him away with my palms on his chest go unaffected.