Another Epilogue

AJ

Tonight, I’m getting hammered.

And laid.

It’s a little embarrassing if I were to confess how long it’s been since I’ve had anyone warm my bed. Or his. I’m not picky. Hell, there doesn’t even have to be a bed. I’m a fan of shower sex, wall sex, truck sex, elevator sex (happened once during a blackout), and well, any kind of sex that involves me actually getting off.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic. The point is, tonight I’m getting laid. School starts in just over a month and alcohol helps fuel all of my bad decisions, and I’m definitely feeling a doozy coming on.

I’m surrounded by happiness.

Even though we lost Josh last year, our family is growing by leaps and bounds. Jaime and Ryan were married this past April, we found out tonight that Dean and Payton eloped to Vegas, and our baby sister Lexi is about to pop out a litter of babies in just a few shorts months. Okay, so she’s only having two, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t one or two more hiding in there somewhere. She’s big and glowing and the way Linkin looks at her and constantly touches her belly is almost nauseatingly cute.

Stupid hormones.

I’m not jealous, per se, because I’m definitely happy for my sisters. I’m just lonely, I guess; tired of kissing frogs and them turning out to be just your typical toad.

The Beaver is abuzz with tourists, all here to celebrate the extended July 4^th holiday weekend. There’s a local guy shooting pool that has possibility; though I’m pretty sure I’ve already taken a ride on his pogo stick – apparently, it wasn’t that memorable. There are a handful of out-of-towners sitting at a table in the back. A few keep glancing over at us, but only one really has potential. And even then, I don’t feel like dropping my panties.

I turn back towards my sisters who are all laughing at something Meghan said. I should probably be listening, but I can’t seem to concentrate. My mind usually wanders easily, but this is different. It’s like some weird electric force is pulling me.

Glancing around, I search for the source of this invisible current. Nothing jumps out at me, yet the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

That’s when my eyes connect with those of a man at the bar.

I tip my beer back, pleasantly passed buzzed and heading straight into hungover territory, and watch. He’s sitting at the end of the bar, and even though there’s a guy next to him, he appears alone. In the dim light of the bar, I can tell his eyes are the color of the ocean. His dark hair is slightly rumpled; the kind of look you get when you run your fingers through it. Suddenly, my fingers are twitching.

And my lady parts are all but panting.

The man makes no move to hide the fact that he’s watching me. In fact, we both just continue to stare, lost in our own little world where no one else exists. For how long? I have no idea; I completely lose track of time. My stomach churns with excitement. The possibility of going home with this man is doing all sorts of crazy things to my brain and my body. I’m drunk on more than just alcohol, but on the prospect of him.

This stranger.

Conversations are had around me. I think I participate, but I have no idea what I say. My eyes keep glancing back at the man at the bar, and every time I look, his eyes are drinking me in.

Finally, he turns without taking his eyes off me and sets his beer bottle down on the bar. He grabs his wallet and throws down some bills onto the bar, never bothering to look at the amount. Then he stands up. Holy shit, he’s tall. Like crazy tall. And lean. I’m not talking skinny, okay? He’s definitely built under his tight Under Armour t-shirt. Even though it’s midsummer, he’s wearing jeans that fit his very long legs to perfection.

God, what I wouldn’t give to wrap my legs around this man’s body right now.

His big feet eat up the floor until he’s standing in front of me. I’m faintly aware that my sisters are all staring at us, watching and waiting.

“Hi,” the gorgeous stranger says in a deep, masculine voice. Holy shit, his voice! I think I could actually come just from hearing him talk.

“Hi.”

“Sawyer,” he says, extending his hand down to me.

“AJ.”

He smiles, and oh God, that smile. Even through my alcohol-induced fog, I can tell this man is utter perfection. The kinda man who should be pictured on magazine covers or maybe even those dirty romance novels Abby reads. He’s also trouble. The kinda man who could definitely do some damage to an unsuspecting heart, and thank fuck that isn’t me. The stranger looks like the kinda man who wants to have a good time, and hopefully, show me a damn good one at the same time.

No strings. No stupid heart.

Just fun.

He extends his hand down and waits. There’s no thinking as I place my own in his. His fingers are calloused and his hands crazy-big as he wraps his around mine and helps me stand. The room slightly moves (okay, it moves a lot), and it makes me wonder how much alcohol I really had tonight.

Enough to follow him out the door.

And that’s what I do.

Consequences be damned.

~ The End ~

Find out more about AJ and Sawyer’s story in My Kinda Player, coming soon.