Wicked Things by Yolanda Olson
Bates
The music comingfrom Sailor’s was something that could be clearly heard from a block away where I parked my car.
I never minded loud music or hanging out with my friends every now and then, it was the strangers that I was never able to stand.
The way they bumped into each other, and into me like I wasn’t even standing there always frayed my nerves.
I was irritated by the time I reached the front door and even more so when I had to dodge some drunken college girls that had stumbled out, just as I tried to get in.
Stay calm and you’ll have a good night, I reminded myself.
Once inside, I glanced around the crowded room.
Bodies were writhing against each other as they danced in some kind of drunken mating ritual.
The sounds of pool balls clacking, and the raucous laughter over bets being lost came from over by the corner where the billiards had been set up.
But I wasn’t here for any of that.
I didn’t want to be here at all, yet I knew staying home would have brought the party to me instead, and that would have put me in an even fouler mood.
“Bates!”
I looked around until I found the source of my name being boomed over the music, and nodded to Milo when I saw him.
This was his doing; it almost always was, but he was a good enough guy that I considered him one of my closest friends.
Not close enough to know everything about me, but close enough to know that he’d be the one I would call if I ever found myself in a pinch.
“Didn’t think you were actually coming,” he remarked dryly when I took the empty stool at the bar next to him.
“The thought of staying home crossed my mind a few times,” I admitted with a chuckle.
Jace and Tao grinned at me from either side of him and I shook my head fondly.
They were more his friends than mine, although I didn’t mind being in their company, either.
“You drinking tonight?” Tao pressed as he reached into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet.
I swallowed a sigh.
I didn’t really want to, because I knew that this had the potential to get a hell of a lot sloppier than it needed to be, but I didn’t want to decline either.
It would seem like bad manners if I did.
“One round each,” I suggested to him as I ran a hand back through my hair, then rested my elbows on the bar-top. “Then I’m going home.”
