Jaye Peaches started this flash fiction challenge. I love writing prompts like this, so gave it some thought, and here’s my story. The challenge was to keep it under 500 words, which I found really challenging! I hope you enjoy it.
Later, I blamed the tequila.
I’m pretty sure jealousy was what prompted the tequila shots at the engagement party to topple down my throat like no one’s business. Jealousy and tequila are a bad combo.
I didn’t even know Jeffrey or Susie, but when my boss pointedly told me we were toasting their engagement that evening, I got the message. Blah. Didn’t anyone care that I found forced socialization about as appealing as getting a root canal? Likely not. So, I went, and when Jeffrey was pouring the tequila, I said “the hell with it.”
In what was not my finest moment, I actually decided I was ok to drive home. But fate stepped in.
I was pulling out of the parking space in the middle of the restaurant, blissfully unaware of him just on the other side of the street, until I saw him waving a hand in front of his window. I stopped, pulled up close, and rolled down my window.
Dark, scruffy beard, eyes as blue as the sapphire I wore around my neck, and broad shoulders that filled the window as he rolled it down. My heart started pounding.
“Can I help you?” I slurred.
“Please,” he drawled, his voice deep and rumbly, and right then I’d have dropped my panties if he’d asked me nicely. Don’t judge. Tequila.
“I’m lost. Can’t find the Blarney Stone, and I’m supposed to be doin’ a gig in ten minutes.”
Ohh, that was hot. I gave him the directions.
He grinned at me, and a dimpled popped up on his cheek. I wanted to lickthat dimple.
“How can I thank you?
“A kiss would do,” I said before my mouth caught up to my brain, and the next thing I knew, he was laughing, then rolling the window down and leaning forward, and I did the same. He tasted like mint, and his soft lips felt nice even as his whiskery beard pricked me.
It was the best kiss of my life and I didn’t even know his name.
“You taste like tequila,” he said, and I nodded.
“Could be the four shots I had.”
His smile fled. “Driving after four shots?”
I shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“No one drinks four shots of tequila and is fine,” he countered. “Anyone who drinks that much and gets behind the wheel of a car ought to be spanked. That’d sober you up.”
I flushed, and said something about needing to get on, but his car was now in park, and he was getting out.
It’s surprising I remember that night with such vivid clarity despite the tequila. Perhaps it was because after he opened the door of his car, and I climbed in, and I showed him how to get the Blarney Stone…he did indeed sober me up. And I did indeed drop my panties.
But it was only the tequila that I regretted.