Winning Back Ryan (12 page)

             
I covered my mouth again to keep from guffawing. “So arrogant…”

             
“You asked for it.” He winked at me before placing his debit card down with the bill on the farthest edge of the table.

             
“What are you doing?” I asked. I grabbed cash out of my wallet.

             
“I’ve got this one. You can pay next time,” he said casually.

             
“Like hell you do,” I slid over to him. “Take the money.”

He slapped my hand away. Irritated, I shoved the money down the opening of his polo shirt.

              “Two can play at this game.” He grabbed the money out of his shirt, and shoved it between my cleavage. I was in total shock that he had done this, and I bent over, so no one saw me taking money out of my breasts.

The waitress had apparently shown up because as I sat up,
I caught her sashaying her hips as she walked away. Brian looked down at me, his eyebrow raised, waiting for my retaliation. I questioned how much further this could go. If I shoved it down his pants, well….

             
“Fine,” I caved. “I’ll pay next time.”

             
“Glad to see you’ve found reason,” he replied before finishing the rest of his soda.

The waitress finally came back, Brian left a tip, and we slid out of the brown leather cushions and into the street.  Walking to his car, Brian ditched the balloon, letting it fly into the night air before he opened the door for me, and I stepped inside. Walking around to the other end, I realized that he’s never done that for me. I shrugged it off, as he started the car, smiling.

              “You’re going to love the place I have in mind.” I cringed as possible thoughts of his retaliation came to mind.

              After the restaurant, we dropped the car back off in his parking lot and took the train into the city. I wanted Brian to be able to have a good time too, and since we didn't mix steering wheels and cocktails, we took the train into the city. We stepped off the train after sending Brian’s mom pictures of my new comforter that was still sitting in Brian’s car trunk. I had to do it; I promised after all. He hailed a cab and we hopped in. Brian leaned up and whispered the address to the cabbie. He refused to tell me where we’re going, opting for mystery instead.

             
If you enjoyed roller coasters, death-defying experiences, or felt you needed to have the fear of God put in you, then I recommend taking a cab in NYC. My first time, I vomited afterwards right on the sidewalk. So, when the driver zoomed off right into oncoming traffic, the sound of horns loudly beeping behind us, I held on to the seat cushions for dear life and closed my eyes. I could hear Brian snickering next to me.

             
I sat there, trying to yank my seat belt out to put on, but I groaned in annoyance realizing that it was trapped in the closed door and gave up on the effort all together. After what felt like forever- I had already traveled to my mental happy place- the cab driver slammed on the breaks and my face smashed into the back of the passenger seat.

             
“What the heck!” I shouted, rubbing my nose, fighting back the sting of tears. That really hurt.

             
“Are you alright?” Brian asked me, and I turned glaring to find him fighting back a laugh. “I’ll only laugh if you say you’re okay,” he reassured me, and I rolled my eyes, flicked him on the tip of his nose, and told him I was fine. Brian paid the cab driver even though I held out money for the fare. “Really? Do you want a repeat performance of the restaurant?” he asked.

It was a small and intimate cab, and the driver was now pointedly watching me so I shook my head, put my money back in my wallet, and fought the blush. We’re not going to play ‘find Annie’s twenty’ tonight.

              I realized after gazing around that we were in Times Square. He pointed me towards the club, the bright flashing neon lights dazzling my eyes, and the bouncer carded us before letting us in.  Once we were inside, it was like a whole other world. There was a haze to the atmosphere- a sharp contrast to the bright lights, noisiness, and general insane energy of the city.  Dimly lit, I wondered if there was a fog machine around. No one could smoke inside bars or clubs in N.Y. anymore, so I knew it was not cigarette or cigar smoke. Britney Spear’s Toxic pounded through the large stereo speakers.

             
The club taunted me, and likely others, calling out to the most primal parts of me. It made sense as I stood there looking around. They were trying to sell sex, after all. I sniffed something in the air and breathed deeper. My brain went through several different smells until I finally placed it- the almost florally smell of cardamom. The floor beneath us was glass blocks, lit up with changing colored lights. The bar was to the left of us, directly in front of us was a large stage with several poles where the ladies performed. There were seats and booths up there for viewing. To the right was the DJ and a dance floor with poles for adventurous women. Glancing over there, I realized all of the women making a daring attempt should not be, as I watched them slide to the ground ungracefully in clothes that were way too small for their body frame.

I looked over at Brian wondering what he had gotten me into, and I realized his eyes were on me, watching me.

              “What now?” I asked.

             
“How about some drinks first?” he suggested and I nodded as we made our way over to the bar. Sitting down, he waved over the bartender.

The bartender was sex on a stick. Seriously, I needed a drool bib.

              “What do you want, Annie?” I faintly heard Brian ask me, but at the moment was incapable of answering and couldn’t look away from tall, dark, and handsome. His jet black spiked hair, olive- colored skin, his bedroom ‘I’m gonna get you’ eyes, his shirt that was so tight that it left very little to the imagination. 

             
“Annie, what do you want?” The question was louder this time, followed by a rib poking.

I realized the bartender was looking at me, awaiting my answer.

              “What’s good around here?” I asked, licking my lips. Did I honestly just ask that? What was wrong with me? He gave me a small smile, but not a blush, and I realized this was probably the fiftieth time someone had flirted with him tonight. Heck, he probably had straight men questioning their sexuality after looking at him.

             
“I get off at six am,” Mr. Bend-me-over-the-bar-and-do-me said, “Until then, you want a drink?”

I blinked and realized my mouth unhinged. He couldn’t seriously be suggesting….with me.

              “Oh no no no no,” I said waving my hands. “You must be misunderstanding me. I’m not interested in that…Just got out of a relationship.”

             
His brow rose. “The guy next to you isn’t your ex.”

             
I shook my head. “Best friend.”

             
He yanked out a business card. “Call me if you want to get together.” I took the card from him in shock, staring down at neon swirls and the name Bernard.

             
“She’ll have a Long Island Iced Tea and I’ll have the same,” I heard a male’s voice say next to me. The bartender turned towards Brian, nodded, and walked off. “You okay there, Annie?” I couldn’t even look away from his backside as Bernard mixed our drinks, watching those arm muscles flex as he shook the tumbler.  God, he was just… I wondered idly if he could bench press me. I wanted to find out. “Earth to Annie!”

             
“What?” I hissed in Brian’s direction, angry that he kept trying to distract me. Couldn’t he see here that I was a little busy? We’re in a strip club, for Christ’s sake. There weren’t enough scantily-clad women to keep his attention? I just wanted to ogle the one gorgeous guy in the place who was not my best friend, who I didn’t know from a hole-in-the-wall. The one guy I could fantasize about. Then it hit me- the overwhelming guilt.  Guilt that this could be one of my last hang-outs with Brian- that I could lose him forever.

             
“Wow, Annie, you’re game is awful,” Brian said to me once the bartender returned with the drinks, winked at me, and walked off. I let out a high pitched giggle. It curiously sounded the same as a hyena laugh.

             
“What are you talking about?” I asked before taking a sip of my drink. Oh my God. The man could make a drink. It was so delicious that I couldn’t stop drinking. That was it. I was having his drinks and his babies.

             
“Annie that was painful to watch. Just straight up pathetic. If you’re going back on the dating scene, you need game. Currently, you don’t have it.”

I inhaled the last of the drink.  I didn’t know how to get out of this one. I didn’t want back on the dating scene; I just didn’t want to lose him in my life.

              “What would you suggest?”

             
Brian looked around the club for a while, until he smiled brightly. “I’ll order two more drinks. Try not to lose your pants when he brings them over, okay?”

I rolled my eyes in response, a new round of drinks had been ordered, another hyena laugh from me, a strange glance from Brian, and we moved our seats to right in front of the stage.

              “So, what’s your plan?” I asked.

             
“You’ll see.” It was his smile that let me know I was in trouble.

I stared at him, sipping down the next drink waiting for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.
              “Let’s play a game shall we? A friendly bet.”

I raised my brow. My competitive streak reared its ugly head.

              “You and I have an hour. You must try and collect as many men’s phone numbers as possible. I’ll collect women’s. At the end of the hour, we see who has the most. The winner wins the prize.”

             
“No stripper’s numbers. Just patrons.” It would give him an unfair advantage. He nodded at my request. “What’s the prize?” I asked.

             
“You and I can decide right now,” he told me, leaning in towards me.

             
“So, what would you like if you win?”

             
“You first,” I said to him.

             
“Okay, if I win, you have to live with me in my apartment for a month,” he said calmly.

             
I blinked. “What?”

             
“You have to live with me for a month and give yourself distance from Ryan.”

             
I frowned. “Fine. If I win, you have to promise me something.” It was such a cheap shot, I knew, but it was the only thing that I cared about anymore. He eyed me curiously. “You have to promise that no matter what happens in our future, no matter what is said between us, you have to promise me that we will always be friends, no matter what.”

             
He blinked. “That’s quite a wager. Forever?”

             
I nodded. “Until the day I die.” I fought back tears.

             
“Done,” he said, holding our hands out and shaking on it. I let out a shaky breath. I badly needed to win this. Losing Brian from my life would feel like the equivalent of having my arm cut off.

             
“So, how are we going to do this?” I asked.

             
“Take out the writing pad from your pocketbook,” he said.

             
I blushed. “I don’t have a pad with me.”

             
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. It’s for when you get ideas for that book you want to write. You’ve been carrying it around since freshman year.”

I bit my lower lip, pulling out the blank pad. He fanned the book out, glimpsing at the empty pages.

              “No ideas lately, huh?” I glanced down at the lit floor, shrugging. I hadn’t felt all that inspired, just exhausted. “Okay,” he said, “here you go.” He ripped several sheets out of the notepad before handing it back to me.

             
“Here,” I handed him an extra pen in my pocketbook. “Wouldn’t want you to cry that you were at a disadvantage without a pen.”

He smirked at me, his eyes glimmering as I started sipping the rest of my drink. “Let me just get one more drink before we start this,” I said, standing up and walking over to the bar.

              The bartender brought me a new drink, I held out the money to pay, and I forced myself not to laugh by digging my fingernails into my leg. The pain kept me from laughing out, and I flashed him a smile- it was probably more like a grimace because of the pain- and made my way back to our couch.

I knew something fishy was going on when I neared the couch and two strippers, who were sitting next to Brian, turned their attention to me smiling. I sat down, sipping my drink.

              “So, are we starting now?” he asked me.

             
I nodded. “We’re starting now.” That’s when the stripper closest to me pivoted toward me, the other one getting up to come sit on my other side. I glanced at Brian, demanding an answer, but knew I was in trouble when I saw his ‘cat who ate the canary’ expression.

             
“You have great breasts,” the one said. “Can I squeeze them? Are they real?”

             
I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped open and my eyes bulged out of my head. I was not homophobic, not in the least, but I was straight. I had no inclination towards the fairer sex at all. That being said, on a scale of one to ten, those women were a twelve, and I found myself unable to say no. If a straight chick couldn’t resist them, then heterosexual men didn’t have a chance in heaven. They were complete and utter vixens. I downed my drink in three gulps.

             
“Enjoy,” Brian said, smirking. He stood up, walking away towards the dance floor. I glared at him defiantly.

             
The one stripper began to squeeze my breast, squealing. “They are so soft, yet firm! I’m jealous! I want a pair. Breast implants don’t feel like this.”

             
“I wanna feel!” The other one shouted as she grabbed my other breast. “Wow, you’re really pretty.”
I looked down at the two women who were thoroughly enthralled. There just wasn’t enough alcohol in all of New York for this.

             
“You really do have fantastic breasts,” the first woman said, and the other one nodded her head in agreement.

I thought about how I could change this situation to my advantage. I looked down at the two strippers. Every guy wanted to give his phone number to a woman who looked like them.

              “Ladies, I need your help with something.”

I quickly told them about the bet and what was at stake.  They both cocked their heads sideways at me like twins.