Faster We Burn

crowed, taking in my glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.
    “I sure am,” I cracked up, not entirely sure why I found it so funny.
    “Are you sure you’re up for this, you lightweight?” Brittni asked, placing her hands on my shoulders so she could study me critically.
    “I’m fine, Mom,” I teased. “I just decided to take the liquid courage route.”
    “So, you’re going through with it?” she asked, looking worried.
    “Duh, that was the plan,” Tressa chastised.
    “I know, but I thought she’d chicken out,” Brittni retorted like I wasn’t even there.
    “Hey, standing right in front of you,” I said, waving my hands exuberantly in front of them like I was trying to land a plane or something to that effect. “Besides, I have to do it, it’s on my list,” I pointed out.
    “Right, it’s on your list. I still think it’s ridiculous for someone our age to have a bucket list.”
    “I told you a million times. It’s for a study I’m doing for the master’s program I’m hoping to get into,” I lied, smiling brightly at her. “It’s a study on living life to its fullest in a limited time frame.”
    “So you’ve said a hundred times. I just think a study on males that have the best pecks or dreamiest eyes would have been more productive.”
    “That’s so cliché and overdone. Having a nice six-pack usually translates to ‘conceited asshole,’“ I answered, sweeping the lip gloss Tressa handed me across my lips. “Thanks,” I told her, handing the wand back. I tried not to focus on the irony of my new friends having no qualms about sharing their makeup with me. Back home, most people refused to touch anything I had touched. They were all assholes. What I had wasn’t contagious.
    “You better get back out there before Mr. Blue Balls thinks you ditched him,” Tressa interrupted, giving my back a light shove toward the bathroom door. “Text us if he turns out to be an asshole.”
    “And make sure he bags his junk,” Brittni piped in.
    Giggling at their advice, I twisted around before exiting the bathroom and threw my arms impulsively around both their necks. “I love you guys,” I said, knocking their heads together from my exuberance.
    “Okay, we love you too,” Brittni complained, trying to extract my arms.
    “Yep, she’s toasted,” Tressa commented, rubbing her head where it had knocked against Brittni’s.
    “Maybe we should hang around to make sure she doesn’t embarrass herself,” Brittni mused.
    “No way, you guys promised,” I reminded them. “If I’m doing this, I’m going in without a safety net.
    “Fine, but your scrawny ass better text us first thing tomorrow morning, or we’re sending out the armed forces to take down Mr. Seximist,” Brittni warned, giving me a quick hard hug.
    “Don’t worry, Brit, he looks harmless enough. Besides, I’ve taken at least twenty pictures on my phone. We’ll nail that bastard’s ass to the wall if he hurts her,” Tressa said from behind me as I pushed open the bathroom door.
    “Don’t worry, my head will make a beautiful mantle piece,” I threw over my shoulder as I sashayed across the room toward the bar.
    “Hey stranger,” I said, boldly sliding onto my barstool.
    “Whoa there,” Mr. Hotness said as my ass misjudged the middle of the seat and teetered on the edge, making the legs of the stool wobble. Hotness reached over and grasped my arm to steady me.
    “You’re hot.”
    “Why thank you,” he said chuckling.
    “I mean, your hands are hot...no, I mean, your touch is hot...shit. Never mind,” I mumbled as he chuckled next to me.
    “It’s not the first time I’ve been called hot, sweetheart.”
    “Vanity isn’t a virtue,” I pointed out, picking up the shot glass that had magically filled itself in my absence. “So, what do you do Mr. I Know I’m Hot?” I asked, realizing that in all our flirting we’d neglected to exchange names.
    “Nathan,” he answered, holding out his hand for me to shake.
    “Ashton,” I parroted as his hand engulfed mine. His touch was sure and sensual at the same time, making my poor hand feel bereft once he let go.
    “I’m a freelance journalist.”
    “Freelance journalist? What does that entail?” I asked intrigued.
    “Lots of traveling and a knack for being able to dig out the truth. I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to pick my assignments,” he answered, turning on his barstool to face me. His knees knocked against mine, which my body was keenly aware