Milkrun Read Online Free PDF Page B

kind of overclothes. (I need to expose as much as I can get away with right from the start; Nat, on the other hand, could wear a burlap sack and still leave ’em panting.) On our right is the dance floor. Some scantily clad women—good God, do I look like that? —are gyrating to a thumping song I am having difficulty deciphering: boom, boom, boom slut, boom, boom, boom, go down on me. Lovely.
    â€œLet’s go.” Straight ahead is the bar. I motion in front of me, maneuvering my way through the crowd. A waitress with way too much breast exposure asks me what I’d like.
    I’d like to have your cleavage, I think but don’t say. She’d think I was some sort of pervert if I did. But I really, really would like to have her cleavage. It’s true I fill out a solid Victoria’s Secret B-cup, and Jeremy certainly seemed happy enough (“More than a handful…” he’d say), and this waitress can’t possibly be wearing more than I am, but let’s face it, I’d need a serious WonderBra to achieve that look. But here’s the thing: what happens when you take a guy home and the bra comes off? How does one explain that exactly?
    I order two Lemon Drops and try to keep my eyes leveled on the busty waitress’s face. I love this shot—first you lick a sugar-covered lemon, then you shoot the vodka, and finally you suck the lemon. Very fun. It’s like buying a bingo lottery ticket; it not only serves its purpose, but doubles as an activity. “Ready?” I ask.
    â€œCheers,” says Natalie.
    Yay! I’m going to get drunk! I’m going to have fun! I’m already having fun. I’m having so much fun, I’ve practically forgotten about the jerk.
    Natalie reaches into her bag and takes out her calorie notebook. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for Sweet’N Low for her lemon. “Look, there’s Andrew Mackenzie!” she says, pointing across the room and waving.
    Please, please tell me, how am I supposed to forget about Jeremy when his Penn buddies are all over the place? Particularly the one who practically fixed us up.
    Andrew waves back and pushes his way toward us.
    â€œI was hoping to run into you, hon,” Natalie says. “I heard you were in town. We were just talking about you.”
    We were?
    â€œWhat were you saying?” he says, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
    What were we saying?
    â€œJust how sexy you are,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck.
    Natalie is a terrific flirt. She may not know which way is north, but she can certainly find her way around the male species. She’s not exactly the queen of originality, though. Who uses a line like “just how sexy you are”? But usually these guys just lap up anything good ol’ Nat has to offer. And at this moment I’m not sure what her sudden interest in Andrew is all about, because I tried to set her up with him about a gazillion times so that Jer and I would have someone to double with. Correction: could have had someone to double with. Anyway, Andrew had been all for it, not that this was much of a surprise—what guy wouldn’t be interested in Nat? But she claimed he wasn’t her type. Too nice, she said.
    â€œJackie!” he says, untangling himself from Natalie’s arms. “I didn’t know you were in Boston.”
    Oh, God, oh, God. That means that Jer doesn’t talk about me to his friends! Apparently I’m so insignificant in his life that I don’t even merit being mentioned. Jackass.
    Or maybe Andrew and Jer aren’t even talking anymore. Yes. I like that possibility better. They are so not talking anymore.
    Andrew even kind of looks like Jer. Well, not really. They’re both pretty tall (I know, I know, everyone is tall next to me). Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Jer is more Ethan-Hawke-hot, scruffy-sexy (he even had that goatee thing going for a bit) whereas Andrew is more