I narrow my eyes at her and chug some more of the liquid courage before standing up and brushing the sand off of me. I glance over at the guy one last time before I head to the cooler and grab a beer then make my way over to him. When I get a few feet away from him, he notices me and gives me a smile. I return it and hand him the beer as I lean against the rock and take a sip of my whiskey.
“You‘re a whiskey girl. Nice,” he comments.
“Is there a reason you’re standing over here alone when you’re at a party?”
“I came with a friend but he met a girl and he’s hanging with her now,” he answers. “Is there a reason you’re over here instead of with your scary boyfriend?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The tattooed guy over there that keeps watching us,” he laughs.
I do
