Chapter Sixteen | The Luck Of The Half Irish
◦◦ Sawyer ◦◦
Forty Five Minutes later
“You sure you’re ready for this, Sawyer?” Blythe challenged with a competitive smirk over the club’s blaring music almost an hour into making each other’s acquaintance. Positioned between her thumb and forefinger was a simple glinting quarter I’d happily provided at her request, which she prepared to spin on the marbled counter in front of our eyes. “We’re neck and neck...this is the deciding game; Remember what’s at stake!”
Oh, I hadn’t forgotten and was looking forward to emerging victorious.
Most of the crowd malingering around from earlier dispersed onto the epic dance floor or elsewhere entirely, leaving Blythe and I pretty much alone—inches away from touching elbows and partaking in several outlandish drinking contests. In between, we'd been discussing her exciting life in Brooklyn and the beauty of Classical music.
Secretly, I used to love when my instructors would play tidbits of Swan Lake and Hungarian Dance No. 6 while we quietly worked on our assignments. I'd still occasionally play my parent's old Classical CDs while I read. Erin used to tease me endlessly for it, but Blythe was an expert on the subject and spoke fondly of such whimsical creativity.
We were sitting close enough for my hypersensitive nose to pick up her enticing cologne, rich with the scent of fresh cut grass accompanied by a nice sea breeze.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to inquire about the brand for myself, or bury my whole face in Blythe’s smooth looking neck because it just mixed so well with her natural pheromones.
Practically swooning in public, I held my composure and smirked back to be facetious. “I’m always ready—to WIN!”
“We’ll see...” She grinned confidently, and I mentally whistled at her full set of white teeth glowing underneath the dimmed lighting. In fact, Blythe herself seemed to radiate an intelligent brightness my drunken mind found attractive as fuck; I hadn’t been able to pull my attention away from whatever the hell came out of her mouth as I remained fixated on those bow shaped lips, talking a mile a minute.
Just don’t ask me to remember much of our conversation tomorrow morning.
I was definitely way too wasted for that. I’d been on a spiraling bender of sorts since noon, only stopping to load up on an extra large cheese pizza a few hours ago before walking the strip this club was located at in search of more alcohol. Because why not, right? It’s not like I had Erin chasing after me armed with a useful diversion anymore, and Kate...
I’ve been dodging her lengthy texts and forwarding every call to voicemail, unsure of how to forgive the way she just left my apartment without any attempts to resolve things yesterday evening before her flight. The thoughtful dinner I’d so enjoyed making for us remained untouched on our plates, and I can still feel the pang in my heart as I listlessly scraped the food into the trashcan.
A small part of me hoped she’d come back to talk it out, but I didn’t bother holding my breath waiting for it to happen; Kate isn’t necessarily the talking type when she’s hiding behind her ten foot high walls.
How right I’d been to stop expecting anything from people, but I couldn’t seem to save myself from the crushing pressure of disappointment this time.
One empty whiskey bottle and a couple hours later, I’d finally knocked out cold curled into the fetal position on my couch. When I woke up this morning, alone for the first time in weeks I might add, I washed my pasty white face and gazed into the bathroom mirror with bloodshot eyes—reminding myself of the most important lesson I’d learned in the twenty seven years I’ve been alive.
They’ll all leave, nobody is permanent. I was foolish to fall so hard and fast for someone who doesn’t even know what she needs...
It was clear as day to me and everyone else who knew Kate how guilty she felt about what happened to her younger sister, but I didn’t know how to support her because she wouldn’t let me. That’s the bottom line.
No matter what excuses were waiting to be read or listened to via voice recording, Kate shut me out in every way possible and I couldn’t take it. I didn't even know where we stand anymore, and wasn't ready to face that question just yet.
So this was my way of dealing with all our uncertainties lingering in between us; Avoidance, and trouble.
Be that as it may...running into a sophisticated music Conductor from New York wasn’t listed under any plans of mine, but I’m so glad I did when I did. I’d already gotten into a heated argument twice tonight, and was just looking for some shit to start when I strolled into ‘All five Inside.’ Had Blythe intervened any later, she might’ve had to pull me off of that insolent-
“Fading out on me?”
Blythe leaned forward and snapped her svelte fingers two inches away from my glazed eyes, bringing me back to the present. Some catchy techno song started playing, and it was hard not to notice the sensual way she clicked her tongue at my bullshit response.
“All here, just got...l-lost in thought for a sec. You were saying?” I batted my lashes at her intently for good measure. Blythe eyed me with playful scrutiny, and I giggled anxiously.
The hell? This is me we're talking about, I don’t get nervous around women! What the fuck is going on?
“Just let me know if we need to call it quits, alright?” Her husky voice oozed patient concern, which normally would’ve agitated me...but to be fair, she has no idea who she’s dealing with here. I’m almost constantly drunk lately; Holding my own is really second nature.
Besides...I go gaga for a killer Eastern accent, and Blythe’s was certainly no exception.
“I’m straight, let’s go!” Gesturing toward the quarter, I immediately propped my chin up with a hand and tried to ignore the hammering of my wild heart beat.
Pretty sure I didn’t need to specify the context of that statement.
The broad grin I was quickly becoming infatuated with grew to twice it’s size; Blythe’s appreciative gaze confirmed my assumption.
“Hmm...I’ll take your word for it. So, this is called ‘The €2 Spin’; I learned how to play after I turned twenty one, when my dad felt like it was time. We let the coin go, and drink as much as we can before it stops. Whoever finishes the most wins—pretty standard, are you familiar?”
I could hardly feel my face at this point, but I still clasped my fingers around the icy mug nearly overflowing with creamy, dark Guinness beer and chuckled aloud. “You kidding? Anyone with Irish blood knows this game...speaking of, what part of Ireland does ‘Collier’ hail from anyhow?”
I was pretty impressed with the amount of booze this chick put away in the short time we’d been drinking together; I don’t know too many who can keep up with me. Duh, of course her surname is Irish!
Concededly, I was a little more pleased with this discovery than I should’ve been.
Blythe’s easy going light brown eyes twinkled shortly after realizing I made the correlation. She ran a sure hand through her silky looking dishwater blonde hair and used her free one to latch onto another mug of good ole Guinness. “Probably around the same area as ‘Driscoll’. Fair?”
“What gave it away?” I snickered, licking my lips and shooting Blythe a sly look as I gripped onto the mug tightly. “Assuming you knew before I told you I’m well versed in this game?”
She did the same, and with a flick of her wrist, my quarter began whirling gracefully. “I did, and I’ll tell you if you win!”
“...Oh, you’re so on!”
“Catch me if you can.” Blythe simpered mischievously, making quick work of her beer. I followed suit, laughing into my glass and trying not to spill any of the dark liquid onto my expensive shirt.
A few people stopped what they were doing to watch and cheer from the sidelines, egging us on and making the game that much more fun; I love performing for an audience.
"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!"
That damn quarter was spun expertly, and by the time it started wobbling and eventually collapsed back onto the table, I’d finished just about half of my beer.
I glanced over to find Blythe had polished off the same amount. I rose my brows, utterly speechless while she wiped her mouth with one smooth motion.
We tied!? I'll be damned.
"Yep; You're Irish alright, Sawyer Driscoll."
"Good call on your part." I chuckled before taking another hearty swig. Out of the corner of my eye, I found Blythe's unique brown orbs observing me the way they had when I first came in. I wasn't planning on saying anything about it, but she caught my attention too...and quickly at that.
Whenever I looked at her, a certain worldliness and refinement came to mind. In the same breath though, she proved to be just as willing to loosen up and have a good time as anyone else. Even sitting down, I could tell she was tall. Taller than me, and for some reason I couldn't get over the fact that she'd worn business attire to a night club.
She absolutely made it work to her advantage.
I had the feeling Blythe was used to naturally taking charge of everything...and I wanted to test that theory in more ways than just one. While the appearance of youthful appeal was on her side, I couldn't contain the dampness between my legs when she disclosed her age with a self assured grin.
A girl in her early thirties with a kick ass job; She had it all figured out and for some strange reason, that fascinated me.