5

Wynter

It seems quite fitting that I should be seated in a bar, drunk with teary eyes two days from my twenty third birthday. Honestly, if that isn't a birds-eye view of my life, then I don't know what is.

I’m not just a little drunk—I’m a lotta drunk. Like, call your ex and cry on the phone, professing your love for him—even though he cheated on you with your friend—kind of drunk. Thank goodness I had Chantell with me. She stopped me before I had the chance to make a fool of myself.

"Wynter, are you listening?" My best friend Chantell asks. She's sitting beside me, nursing a glass of scotch, which I'm pretty sure she only got because she saw me drinking mine. Her expression is concerned, as always whenever she sees me this heartbroken. Sometimes it hurts me to think of how my mood affects hers. And how much she goes out of her way to be there for me. I would switch her with my actual mother in the twinkle of an eye if I could. The damned woman wouldn’t let me have a minute of peace.

“Urm. I kinda lost you a while back. Yeah, Yeah. Matt’s an asshole. My mom’s even worse and I hate my life.” I groan, dropping my head to my hands. I can feel my temples throbbing already. I’ll probably get a headache tomorrow. And the next day. The noise in the bar isn’t helping either but that's okay. I can ignore it. It doesn't matter what else goes wrong tonight.

“Poor Wynter. I’m sorry you have to go through so much. If it helps you feel better, we can head to Matt’s place now and do some damage to his car. I can be a bad bitch for you. You know that right?” Chantell says, taking another sip of her drink. She winks at me and I almost smile.

“Nah. I’m good. We don’t have money for bail, you know and I can bet my ass my mom would be happy to let me spend a day or two in jail to teach me a lesson.” I take a swig too.

Chantell frowns down into her glass and bites her lower lip. I know her well enough by now to know she’s just as affected by my sour mood as I am. “What’s the deal with her anyways? Why won’t she just leave you alone? You’re turning twenty three in a few days.”

I shrug. “You tell me. She’s never liked me and probably never will. I did give her a piece of my mind earlier though.”

Chantell ’s eyes widen comically. She nearly spits out her drink. “You did what?”

“I told her how much of a terrible mother she is. Why do you look so surprised? She got what’s been coming to her.”

The look of surprise on her face is because she’s advised me to let it out in the past, let her know how I feel and quit being a coward, but I had declined as many times as she’s asked. I had always hoped I could fix things with my mom but I think we’re way past that already, and I’ve come to accept it. Much like I’ve come to accept that I’ll never be able to keep a man as mine. Matt’s my fourth failed relationship in quick succession. And guess what they all had in common? They were lying, cheating dickheads who couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants.

Chantell sighs. “Ugh, if you would stop dating guys like ‘Horndog’ Matt, this wouldn't be a problem.” Her tone softens when she sees my expression, a mixture of hurt and regret. "I just hate to see you get hurt over and over by the same type of guys—scared of commitment and can’t be faithful even if their lives depended on it. Honestly, I never saw the appeal in Matt. You are definitely a ten, and he's like...a three, at best."

Well, the truth is that he was pretty much the most available person after my last failed relationship and a broad shoulder to cry on. He was a good dick to ride, but there wasn’t much else.

I try for a small smile, swirling my drink around, watching the ice cubes spin. "It's not like I purposefully attract assholes, Chantell . I don’t think I have a sign on my head saying, ‘Hey I’m Wynter! Feel free to fuck me up and leave!!And no, I’m a solid seven and not a ten. A couple inches more in height and maybe I would agree.”

“You’re five foot seven.”

“And you’re a five-foot-ten epitome of beauty and class.” I retort.

She rolls her eyes at me and ignores my comment. At six foot, she towers over me. Her dark hair is always ten kinds of hot mess, but she pulls it off flawlessly. Chantell is the only person I know who could have six days of unwashed hair, dark bags under her eyes, wear the same clothes a week straight, use no make up—not even lipgloss— and still look like a supermodel straight off the cover of Vogue magazine. It’s ridiculously unfair.

Not that I’m not beautiful. But compared to Chantell , I am a complete slob.

Chantell seems to have her eyes fixed on something behind me, so I turn around to see a guy staring at me, clearly a bit drunk and trying to hide it, but failing miserably.

He has dark hair that falls in perfect form across his forehead, and electric blue eyes. His jawline is sharp and jaw muscles flex underneath his tanned skin as he leans forward on one hand.

“Who is he?” I ask, nodding at him. He looks hot. Dangerously hot and for some weird reason, he’s alone. Alarm bells go ringing in my head but I’m too curious to heed them. Those eyes of his, blue and almond shaped, hold nothing in them. Just an innocent longing.

Chantell follows my gaze and giggles. “I’ve got no idea, but he’s hot and from the look of things alone.”

“You have a boyfriend.”

She raises her shoulder in a half shrug. “He’s due for a change.”

I gape at her for a moment but then turn back to the guy with his arms folded across his chest and his lips pursed together, looking very, very sexy. God help me. If he looks at me with those eyes, I might just melt. And he does. Oh boy does he. Our eyes lock and my breath hitches. When he winks at me, I swear my knees buckle a little bit. Damn he knows how to flirt.

I turn back to face Chantell who’s grinning from ear to ear now. “He winked at me. Did you see it?” I say excitedly.

Chantell smirks at me, clearly amused at my reaction. “Yeah. Now keep it cool. You don’t want him thinking that you fancy him.”

“Fancy him? Of course. I would have to be an idiot not to.”

“See why you struggle to keep your men.”

I shoot her a glare. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Chantell snorts and downs the rest of her whiskey in one big gulp. Then she puts down the empty glass with a mischievous look on her face. I know that look. It’s one she wears before she does something daring and sometimes foolish.

“What are you thinking?”

Her smile widens. “Helping you out like I always do. You don’t need to say thank you. And yes, I know you love me a lot.”

Before I can respond, she scurries off towards where the dude sits at a table a few feet away. She whispers something in his ear and I see him smile and nod, patting her arm in a friendly way. Then he looks in my direction again and waves a hand. What did she do? I turn away from him, pretending I hadn’t seen anything, pouring myself a drink and gulping it down in one go. Damn Chantell for this.

“Hi!” The voice comes from directly behind me and makes me jump. He chuckles at my reaction and I swear it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“Hi…” I manage in return as I turn around to face him.

If I survive the next few minutes with him, and I ever see Chantell again, I am going to murder her. Literally, I'm going to kill her. Lifelong friendship right down the drain.