I sat back down, grabbed a clean shot glass that rested upside down on the bar and filled it with Three Olive Grape Vodka, which I now knew to be her favorite. I set the bottle back down on the bar and slid it out of the way.

"Be honest," I said as I pushed the shot glass in front of her.

She bit her lip, looked down at the shot glass and then back at me. She was like an open book and I could see all of the conflicting emotions as they ran across her face until she finally let go.

"IloveGavintodeathbuthedrivesmefuckingcrazy!" she said as fast as she could and snapped her mouth shut immediately.

"Take a shot," I told her, nodding at the shot glass in encouragement.

Without hesitating, she picked up the glass and tipped it back, slamming it down onto the bar when she was done.

"Keep going," I told her as I leaned closer to her and poured more vodka into the shot glass.

"The first time he said, 'Mommy,' my heart completely melted. But that kid never shuts up. Ever. He even talks in his sleep. One time when we were driving he was going on and on about sheep and french fries and his wiener and the lawn mower, I stopped the car in the middle of the street and got out. After I walked around the car and then got back in, he was still talking, asking me if lawn mowers have wieners. He never. Stops. Talking."

"Take a shot," I said again with a smile.

She downed it, slamming the glass in front of me this time so I could refill it. I did, pushing it back towards her.

"I gained fifty-six pounds when I was pregnant with him. Do you have any idea what it's like to look down and not be able to see your vagina?"

"Uh, no," I muttered.

"My ass had its own zip code."

"If it makes you feel better, it is an awesome ass," I told her honestly.

"Thank you."

I poured her another and didn't even need to prompt her to drink it.

"His hugs are a magical cure for everything. But do you have any idea how much a baby shits and pukes and cries? He projectile vomited every bottle he drank. Drink, burp, spew. Lather, rinse, repeat."

Down went the shot.

“He didn’t sleep through the night until he was three and a half years old. I got so fed up I told him Shasta the Sleep Monster lived under his bed and would bite his feet if he got out of it in the middle of the night for anything other than the house being on fire.”

She tipped her head back and finished another shot.

"I can't believe you don't hate me right now," she said.

"Why would I ever hate you?"

"Because I basically used you for sex and then never spoke to you again," she explained.

"Honey, where I come from, that's like Christmas to a guy," I said with a laugh, trying to lighten her mood. "I should be the one apologizing to you." I reached out with my hand and turned her face towards me.

God she was so beautiful. And I was a complete dick for wanting to take advantage of her being a little tipsy. But f**k, I needed to kiss her. I waited five years to taste her again. She tilted her head so that she could rub her cheek against the palm of my hand, and I almost forgot what I had been trying to say to her.

"Granted, we were both pretty out of it that night, but if I would have ever known that you had never…that you…that I was your first, I would have done things a hell of a lot differently," I admitted.

Like stare at your naked body and memorize every inch of it, swirl my tongue around your ni**les and suck them into my mouth until you moaned my name. I'd taste your skin and burry my face between your legs and make you come so hard you'd forget your name.

"Holy f**k," she whispered with a glazed look in her eyes.

I just said all of that out loud didn't I?

She sat there staring at me with her mouth open, and I worried that I royally f**ked up. It was too soon for me to talk about her vagina and how much I wanted to become BFF's with it. Sure, I spent the past five years glorifying every single thing I could remember about her, and I worried over the past week that maybe my memories were better than reality, but that was just stupid. She was just as amazing sitting here in front of me as she was in my dreams, and I needed her to know that. I opened my mouth but before I could get the words out, she jumped down off of the stool, mumbling something about stocking beer in the cooler in the back. She brushed past me and I was left sitting on my stool with a bottle of vodka and the smell of chocolate lingering in the air.

Oh my God. Oh holy f**king shit.

I was such a f**king coward. I ran away from him as fast as I could and now I was in the storage room pretending to stock beer.

I'd taste your skin and burry my face between your legs and make you come so hard you'd forget your name.

Jesus Christ on a cracker. I had no experience with this shit. I wanted to hump his leg as soon as those words left his mouth. He clearly didn't mean to say them out loud going by the shocked expression on his face.

"Shit!" I muttered loudly, punching an empty case of beer.

Except it wasn't empty and my fist connected with full cans of beer.

"Son of a bitchfuck!" I cursed while I shook my bruised hand, kicking my foot out and connecting with a bottle of tequila that went rolling across the floor.

"I hope this alcohol abuse isn't because of something I said."

I turned around to find Carter lounging against the door frame. Why does he always have to witness my mortifying stupidity?

"I mean really, what has that bottle of tequila ever done to you?" he asked as he started to walk towards me.