Chapter 182 SURFER ON ACID
Edeline
Conor’s tall, muscular frame strode ahead of me, his jeans fitting snugly as he walked, and his flannel shirt hugging his well-built arms. His rugged style just fit right in with the atmosphere of the place, like he belonged here.
I suddenly felt a bit out of place, my eyes wide as I took in my surroundings. A group of guys playing pool were checking me out, making comments that I could easily pick up on. I felt their gazes like pricks against my skin, and I could hear their crude thoughts about how much they wanted me. A surge of frustration welled up inside me, my forehead furrowing as a deep growl escaped my lips before I even realized it.
I perked up, startled, when I heard another growl—this one low and menacing. I quickly turned my head toward Conor, who was giving the men a fierce glare that could freeze fire. They immediately shifted their attention back to their game, pretending as if nothing had happened.
There were a few elderly gentlemen in the corner, their questionable hygiene evident even from a distance.
"Hey, come on over and let’s grab a drink, Edeline," Conor said, pulling out a high-top barstool for me before taking the one next to it. I couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment, noting his impressive build. With Conor by my side, no one here would dare mess with me.
I settled into the seat, trying to get comfortable as I glanced at Conor. He wore that same expressionless face he always had, like he’d been practicing it his whole life.
A mellow rock and roll tune was playing softly in the background—something easygoing. As I listened closer, I recognized it as "Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. The music added to the laid-back vibe of the bar.
“Edeline, meet this little guy... the chubby one,” Conor said with a slight smile, nodding towards the older gentleman behind the bar. The man immediately defended himself, his tone light.
“Conor, I already told you, I’m not fat! I just have a little extra to love, you know?” He grinned at me, proudly flashing a missing tooth, and gave me a playful wink.
I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, covering my mouth as I nodded enthusiastically. His grin widened, and he continued drying a beer mug with a fresh towel, clearly pleased that I had taken him seriously.
Conor leaned in a bit, his voice deep and casual. "Oh, and that kid over there is Bradley. He’s Shortie’s nephew." He nodded towards Bradley, who was tall and skinny, with not much weight on him, but his eyes were striking—kind and surprisingly bright.
I gave Bradley a nod and a smile, noticing the way his eyes widened in surprise, probably not used to a girl smiling at him. Meanwhile, Conor and Shortie kept up their banter, tossing light insults back and forth.
"So, what do you want?" Conor asked, his voice rough around the edges. Our eyes met, and I noticed how deep his blue eyes were—a shade of midnight blue that reminded me of a clear, starry night.
"I'll just take a glass of Moscato," I said with a small smile, feeling a bit embarrassed by my lack of knowledge when it comes to alcohol.
Conor looked slightly puzzled. "You can't drown your sorrows with Moscato," he remarked with a hint of disdain, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Uh, yeah, I'm not really into drinking," I admitted, feeling my cheeks warm. "I mean, I've only tried it once, and it was tequila. And, well, I guess I might be, you know, unsure about it..." I nervously bit my lip, my eyes dropping to the worn wooden bar in front of me.
"Pregnant?" His eyebrow arched higher, curiosity sparking in his eyes. I let out a sigh and nodded, keeping my gaze fixed on the bar as if it held all the answers. The wood was old, its polish peeling away in places, with names carved into it from years of patrons coming and going.
Conor seemed lost in thought for a moment, his silence making me feel a bit more uneasy. I focused on the patterns in the wood, tracing the grooves with my eyes, trying to distract myself from the nervous flutter in my stomach.
"Okay," he suddenly declared, slamming the bar with a strong hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I'm gonna get you a drink. Trust me, you'll love it. It’s one of those fruity drinks that girls go crazy for." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering as he added, "By the way, you just mated three days ago. Having a few drinks won’t hurt if you’re pregnant. It’s just a bunch of cells right now, if you are. You can worry about it later when it’s more developed." He chuckled, pulling back as he called out to Shortie. "Hey Shortie, can I grab a tall Stella with a Jack Backer? Straight up. Oh, and also a Surfer on Acid. Just the drink, not the shot."
Shortie nodded and winked, quickly getting the order ready. I watched him work, my mind still spinning from Conor’s words.
I turned back to Conor, feeling a little lost. "What did you just say? And what’s a Surfer on Acid?" I asked in a low voice, curiosity mixing with confusion.
Conor flashed a big smile, showing off his pearly whites—something I hadn't seen much of. He looked so large and at ease sitting on that barstool, and when our eyes met, I found his energy oddly entertaining. "So, there’s this beer called Stella Artois. And if you want to spice things up, you order a shot of Jack Daniels with it, which they call a Jack Backer. Whiskey, in my opinion, is just good for the soul." He drifted into thought, his gaze momentarily distant, as if he was pondering something beyond the conversation.
"And what about the Surfer on Acid?" I asked again, my grin turning a bit crooked as I tried to keep up with him.