Thirty-five and Single

Inside, as I listen to her explain my planned tattoo, I take the vodka from my sister’s hand. I seriously need to be a little more wasted to get through this.

Chapter Two

My dress is gone, replaced by a gag gift Ella got me. Not wanting anyone to see me, I’m in a rush to get inside my apartment. But where are my damn keys? The clutch I carry isn’t that big. Just as I start to dump everything onto the ground, I pull the damnable things out. Like a missile, they shoot out of my hands and go clattering to the floor.

“Mother sucker,” I slur, still feeling the effects of the alcohol I’ve consumed over the last few hours.

I bend in half to grab for them when I hear, “Cinnabuns?”

My ass clad in pants has been on display with the words Sin-A-Buns written across the bottom. I straighten so fast I stumble a bit and have to steady myself with a hand on the wall.

Staring into Joel’s gorgeous face, I let my other hand fall from my chest as my heart skips beats from fright.

Before I can explain my questionable wardrobe choices, he reads the words on my chest.

“My milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard.” He chuckles.

“It’s not what you think.” Then the worst possible thing happens. I let out the loudest burp known to man.

Embarrassed, I spin around, somehow managing to fit the key into my lock and turn it. But damn if my feet don’t get in the way. My open purse skitters away from my hand as I basically slide home across the floor. Then he’s there, smelling like fresh mountain air. I have no idea why, as D.C. isn’t mountainous.

“Olivia, are you okay?”

As he crouches in front of me, his head spins clockwise in my hazy vision. My head aches, and I don’t know if it’s from the many drinks I’ve had or my fall. I think he asks me a question, but I don’t answer when suddenly I’m airborne.

“I think I can fly,” I sing, feeling like I should share this knowledge with the world. But then the nerve endings on my back flare to life, and I know he’s carrying me. “You’re so strong to be able to lift these buns.”

His laughter fans my hair. “You’re light. I could keep you in my arms forever.”

I’m sure I drifted off to dreamland for a second. No way has he said something like that.

Then he sets me down on what must be a cloud.

“Wow, this is nice.” I snuggle in.

“Don’t move,” he orders and disappears out of my sight.

I close my eyes for just a second.

“Olivia, you can’t sleep.”

I slap at his hand, which prods a sore spot on my head.

“I’m tired. It’s been a long night. And today is my birthday. I should be able to do what I want.”

“You should. But you might have a concussion. Maybe we should go to the hospital.”

I shake my head, which makes everything spin more.

“I’m fine. No hospital, just sleep.” I close my eyes again.

“No sleep, or we go to the hospital.” He sighs and brushes my hair from my forehead. My eyes flutter from his gentle touch. “Why don’t you tell me what you did tonight?”

A giggle bubbles in my throat. “Let’s see. I went out with my sisters. Amelia thinks you’re hot, by the way.” I sigh. “Anyway, we played truth or dare. I took a dare and got a tattoo.”

Suddenly, he sits up, making the bed rock. “You got ink without me doing it?”

I reach up, wanting to brush the frown off his face. “It would have been you, but you weren’t at work tonight.”

Cupping the side of his face, I have the urge to touch his lips.

“Where is it?”

Confused because I’d been focused on his lips, I ask, “Where’s what?”

“Your tattoo?”

His eyes follow where I point in the direction of my center then jerk back to focus on me. “On your…”

I bust out a laugh. “No, silly, here.”

When I pat my fingertips on the covered spot just to the left of the juncture between my legs, he groans. “Who did it?”

Shrugging, I feel bold. “It doesn’t matter. You can do something else for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Be my number two.”

His brow furrows. “Number two?”

“Have I ever told you I’ve only had sex with one guy, like, ever?”

Saying that out loud makes me feel more stupid for trusting Corey to make me his one and only.

“Olivia, we can’t. You hit your head. And you’ve been drinking.”

“So…” I try not to feel foolish for asking. “You said I can’t go to sleep. What better way to stay awake?”

“You’ll regret this in the morning.”

Rolling over, I hide my face. I’ve only ever dated one guy. I’ve never made a move on another, and now that I have, he’s turning me down.