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I look over at Skye and Ricky Martin. "Would you guys like shots?"
"Yeah. Are you paying?" Ricky Martin says, and I nod.
"No, thank you," Skye says.
"Really, Skye? You don't want a free shot?"
"Fine," she says. "You may buy me a shot."
"I had a feeling you'd say that. Let's see. What should we get?"
"I like buttery nipples," India says.
I look at her and grin. "I think I prefer the whipped cream."
Skye gasps, "Really? This is so inappropriate."
“You’re telling me something is inappropriate?” I say looking down into her eyes. “Pot calling kettle?"
"What are you talking about?" she says.
I lean down and whisper in her ear, "If you think you're going home with Ricky Martin there tonight, I think you'll find that you're mistaken."
"You're just jealous," she hisses. "You're just jealous because I told you I didn’t want to have dinner with you, and I told you I'm not interested in you and now you're trying to cock-block me with this very handsome man."
"I don't think I'm trying to cock-block you. I think you've cock-blocked yourself."
"How do I cock-block myself?" she demands, glaring at me.
"Maybe because you don't have a cock."
"What? What are you talking about?" She looks confused, and I shake my head.
"Are you ready to order, sir?" the bartender says.
"Yeah. Can I get three cosmopolitans? I will have a Guinness, if you have them, and then we'll get four shots of tequila."
"Tequila?" Skye says. "What? Are you trying to get me fucked up tonight?"
"I don't know. Do you want to get fucked up tonight, or are you just trying to get fucked?"
She gasps again, "Oh my gosh. You did not say that."
"I mean, if you want to get fucked, I would recommend you move on to someone else."
"Excuse me?" she says, blinking at me.
"I really don't think jealousy is a good look on you."
She gives me a smug look. "Just because me and my new man want to—" I tap her on the shoulder to interrupt her. "What?"
"Have a look," I say, nodding behind her.
"What are you talking about?" She turns her head to the right and her jaw drops when she sees Ricky Martin kissing a guy that had just walked up to him, and not as friends. "What?" She looks back at me, and I chuckle slightly.
"Honey, Ricky Martin doesn’t bat for our team."
"But I thought he was so into me," she whispers. "He was literally talking to me as soon as I got to the bar, admiring my hair, asking who my stylist was…" She blinks in confusion. "I wasn't even sure if I was into him, but…"
