Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 by Nikki Lane (best memoirs of all time txt) 📕

sit, not even at the bar. We found a little high-top table in the corner of the room, crammed next to another group of people taking shots. A combination of a live band and a DJ were sprawled along the back of the space. A makeshift dance floor was already crammed.

The waitress weaved through the crowd and dropped off my margarita, along with the bill. After some quick back and forth, I submitted and let Jacob pay the bill, but only if I could leave the tip.

“You want a sip?” I shouted to Jacob. The beat of the music made standing still almost impossible.

“No thanks,” he shouted back. “Need to hit the books later.”

Someone from the next table bumped into me, causing my drink to spill over.

“I’m so sorry,” he said with an accent. The gold chain around his neck glistened against his bronze skin. “Let me buy you another one.”

“It’s fine, really.”

His thick brows narrowed over his dark eyes. “You are here to party, yes?”

I chuckled. “Just dinner.”

He pointed to Jacob, who was doing a good job of hiding in the shadows, and whispered in my ear, “Boyfriend?”

I shook my head.

Someone from his table called the name Javier, to which he responded something back in Spanish. The waitress had just delivered a tray full of shots to his table.

“Ah,” he said, grabbing a few. “You must take one.”

Not one to decline free, well, anything, I took the shot from his hand.

“Amigo,” Javier said to Jacob. “Tequila for you.”

“Oh, no, thank you.”

“Come on,” Javier insisted. “It is rude to refuse.”

“Come on, Jacob,” I prodded. “It’s just one drink.”

Jacob sighed and grabbed the shot.

“Odelay!” Javier shouted. “That’s it, my friend!” He held the shot up, and Jacob and I did the same. He made a toast, with the table of his friends listening in with their own shots, but it was all in Spanish. “Salud,” he finally said.

It seemed like the whole room responded with the same, and we all slung back our shots. I swear I thought Jacob’s face turned green.

Javier called to the waitress who soon came back to the table with another round. Turned out, Javier was visiting family, the owners of the restaurant, and tonight was his welcome celebration. Luckily for Jacob and me—or maybe not for Jacob, according to the look on his face—we’d had quickly become part of the family.

“Okay,” Javier said. “You two.” He pointed to Jacob and me. “It’s time to dance.”

I let out a happy squeal. “Great idea. Come on, Jacob.”

Jacob turned redder than the salsa on the table. “No,” he said almost instantly. “I don’t think so.”

“It’ll be fun,” I said. Or maybe it wouldn’t; he was still in the land of the sober.

“I think I’ll just watch.”

“My friend,” Javier said, reaching for my hand. “When a beautiful woman asks you to dance, you dance.” He pulled me onto the dance floor and pressed his body against mine.

Javier moved around the dance floor like he’d come out of the womb dancing. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. But when your dance partner is as good as mine was, it didn’t matter. He twirled me around and pulled me back close to grind his pelvis against mine. I took a quick look back at the table in-between songs. Jacob was hunched over, looking on, his mouth in a tight line.

“I better get going,” I said to Javier. I pulled a strand of my hair away from my damp cheeks. He reluctantly let me go and had no trouble finding a replacement for the next song.

I grabbed the glass of water Jacob had barely touched and guzzled it down. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

I said goodbye to my new friends with Jacob lagging behind. He’d barely said anything as we got back in the truck to head home.

“Funny how the night turned out, huh?”

“Hilarious,” he said, concentrating on the road.

I ignored his sarcastic tone. “Oh, come on, Jacob. Tell me you didn’t have a little fun. Just a little?” I gestured just how little with my fingers and leaned toward him.

An animal darted across the road, and Jacob swerved the truck to avoid hitting it. The tequila was still running strong through my blood, and I laid my head to rest near his lap.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyeing me before focusing back on the road.

“Looking at you. You look so different than what I remember.”

“I can’t shift gears. Your shoulder is in the way.”

“How about me?” I asked. “Do I look different?”

“Come on, Maeve. You’re drunk.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, so? You should try it some time.”

I could feel him applying the brake, and he awkwardly downshifted the truck from fourth to third and then to second. He skipped first altogether and threw the gear in neutral. The red light glowed through the windshield.

“You should be wearing your seatbelt.” He’d only look down at me for a few seconds at a time.

“Not until you answer me.”

He let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course you do.”

“Better or worse?”

“Are you really doing this right now?”

“Better or worse?”

“Better,” he said. “Happy now?”

“Yes.” I slowly rose, feeling a little dizzy, and put my seatbelt on. “Same for you, by the way. Better. In case you were wondering.”

I could tell he was doing his best to avoid looking at me, but when the light turned green, it highlighted a part of his face, most notably, his small smile.

Chapter Four

The next morning I found Jacob sitting cross-legged on a patch of hay in the kidding stall.

“Hey,” I said, hanging one hand on the stall door.

A sliver of early morning sunlight illuminated his face. “Hey.” The baby goat was nestled in his lap, greedily drinking the milk from the bottle Jacob was holding.

I sat down next to him. “How’s he doing?”

“Pretty good. He won’t nurse from mom. But he’s taking to the bottle really well.”

I pet the baby on his head. “I think we should give him a name.”

Jacob thought for a few seconds. “How about