He tugged me out of my chair, stole it for himself, and forced me to sit between him and Quinn. As Ten lifted his hand to flag down a waitress, I glanced at Quinn. He was waving a hello to Noel and Asher at the bar, who both waved back, and then he turned to catch me watching him.
His eyes saddened, but he forced a smile. Then he glanced toward Cora where she was sitting with her friends and chattering away. His sad, forced smile died completely.
I glanced at my hands in my lap and picked at the blue fingernail polish Cora had put on me, suddenly wishing Caroline were here. Or Reese and her cousin Eva. Anyone to spruce up the dismal start of this agonizing double date.
“Bottoms up,” Ten announced, startling me as he took a handful of drinks from the waitress who’d arrived with them.
Quinn scowled at the glass his roommate slid in front of him and lifted his face to transfer his frown to Ten. “This is alcohol.”
“I know.” Ten rolled his eyes. “You’re drinking tonight. I’ve even decided to play DD so both of you,” he included me in his glance as he nudged a glass toward me, “can relax and just...enjoy the evening.”
Quinn snorted and glanced away, letting him know that wasn’t going to happen no matter how much he drank.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and eyed my own drink before admitting, “I’ve never drank before.”
“Neither have I,” Quinn added, “and I’m not starting tonight.”
“Yes, you are,” Ten ground out. “I swear, your asshole’s probably puckered so tight right now you’ve gone and made yourself constipated. That cannot be good for you. Drink. Relax. Have fun.”
I leaned in toward Ten and quietly murmured, “But his mom was an abusive alcoholic.”
He blinked at me, and I could tell from the surprise on his face, this was news to him. But then he recovered and announced, “Well, my dad’s a hell of a nice guy, and my mom hasn’t sworn a day in her life.” Then he shrugged. “We don’t always take after our parents.”
Quinn looked at him as if considering his words.
“Are you sure you’ll stay sober enough to drive?” I asked, feeling the urge to be a little reckless because I wanted Quinn to be able to relax and maybe forget what Cora had done to him...even if it was just for a few hours.
“Smell.” Ten offered me his cup, so I’d know it was soda pop. But I took my investigation a step farther and took a drink from his cup to taste a sip. Pure Dr. Pepper. Handing it back to him, I smiled my approval.
“So, what did you give me?” I asked. “Some kind of girly frou-frou drink?” Caroline had insisted those tasted the best.
“Fuck no.” Ten snorted. “It’s a Long Island Iced Tea. It’s what both of you have.”
I nodded, then licked my lips and drew in a breath as I bolstered myself. Then I reached out and took a small sip.
Quinn sat up as he watched me. He looked as if he was ready to perform CPR if I started choking, but I merely nodded my head as the new flavors slid down my throat. There was a bit of a tang to the flavor that made me want to shudder, but over all, it tasted...fine. Mostly like cola.
“That’s actually not too bad.”
Ten rolled his eyes. “I am a bartender, you know. I can tell which drinks will agree with which people.”
“Well, thank you.” I smiled at him and took another sip. Then I turned to Quinn. “I just realized you’re a bartender who’s never drank before. That’s so cool. In my writing class, they would consider you a rounded character instead of flat and clichéd because of that kind of contradiction.”
I could tell by the change in his blue eyes that my compliment pleased Quinn. Proud of myself, I took another sip. Maybe tonight wouldn’t suck quite so much after all.
“What kind of character would I be?” Ten asked, leaning forward with interest.
I lifted my chin and announced, “I believe they would call you quite a character.”
Ten snorted out a small laugh and murmured, “Keep drinking, Blondie.”
For a couple minutes, both guys just watched me nurse my Long Island Iced Tea. Quinn still had yet to touch his, but at least Ten had stopped trying to egg him on.
“So, I don’t think I know what your major is?” I turned to Ten expectantly, since he was supposed to be my date for the evening and all. A girl was supposed to talk to her date, wasn’t she?
“Architecture,” he answered and spun his soda glass in a puddle of its own sweat stain.
Just as I frowned, Quinn lifted his face. “You told me your major was construction.”