Sweet Sour ll Anthony: The drink para
Anthony sat on a beach chair out on the sandy shores of the Hamptons beach, with his eyes fixated on the  bon fire that blazed right in the very center. He watched the flames dancing and flickering when the wind teased them while absently nursing a Cachaca. Or rather had been. It took him a while to realize heâd consumed the entire contents of the glass at some point awhile ago. And immediately found himself in need of another.Â
The damned summer bash was at last coming to a sputtering end. What remained of the avid crowd that had gathered here on day one, was now around simply to savor the last few remains of what was left of the summer season. And in a few minutes summer was going to go out with a bang. The night sky would light up with the fireworks that were promised, and everyone would say there farewells whilst packing up their tents and sleeping bags before heading back to civilization. Traffic would no doubt be a hell of a bitch, that was for sure. Which was why he had considered it an intelligent move to have brought himself a room at the Paradise Resort Hotel. Luck wasnât a factor that was on his side it seemed. Not when it came to that damned lotteryâwhich wouldâve been a swell excuse to ditch this hellhole of a town. And luck had abandoned him just as eagerly in that race with Meredith earlier, the one that heâd lost miserably. And paid for it, not only by having to swallow his pride and give her a damn massage in public, but also by keeping his damn mouth shut about that mongrel of a man she tugged around on a leash.Â
But he didnât want to think about those dark thoughts right nowâhell he didnât want to think at all. He wanted to drink. His eyes roamed over the area of the beach. The answer came to him in the form of a rather hot brunette who made no hesitation in catching his eye. Though the only thing that seemed to have caught his interest was the tray of exotic drinks she was carrying around on a silver tray. He shot her a smirk, which seemed to be enough of an invitation for her to saunter over to him. Women.Â
Women. That same thought turned rather bitter when he spotted a two familiar figures over the brunetteâs shoulder while she made her way towards him. Off in the distance, with the seabreeze ruffling through her messy red locks, sat Meredith lavishing that bastard Craig with undeserved attention. He felt the taste in his mouth turn vile when he saw her lean in towards him, her face arching up towards his as if she was going toâ
Anthony flicked his gaze away in want of sparing himself the gory details of witnessing their kiss. But the thought was still a rather disturbing one, and it would continue to bore a hole in his mind. He was going to need something damn strong to forget that.
âYou look like you could use a drink.â He hadnât realized that the brunette with the tray of drinks had made her way to his side. He gave her another indulgent smile. âDonât mind if I do.â Anthony replied, plucking a cocktail drink off of the tray that she held out towards him. Eagerly, he brought the glass to his lips and took a hearty sip. And at once he was struck by the taste. It was no scotch or bourbonâor any of the drinks he typically indulged in. Yet it seemed to hit the spot. Rich and smokey and robust, and yet the dark amber cocktail held the perfect balance of sweetness to tartness.
Appeased by the drink at least, Anthony gave the brunette an approving nod, just before she turned to leave. But he leaned forward and snatched her wrist to halt her in place. âWhy donât you leave that tray over here, sweetheart. Iâll put them to good use.â He could also imagine a few interesting uses for that hot coral painted mouth of hers, he thought silently, as he patted the spot next to himâindicating to her to take a seat next to him. Naturally, the brunette was in need of very little encouragement for him, and obliged him at once by dropping down next to him.
âWhatâs your name?â Anthony asked letting his gaze run over the girlâs face assessively. She may have had curves that were definitely working in her favour but her facial features were that of a plain jane. âWait wait, nevermind.â He pressed a finger to her lips, forbidding them to open her mouth and ruin the moment. âIt doesnât matter.â He muttered with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder before he dragged the womanâs mouth towards his own and tried to block all of his thoughts out with an indulgent kiss with a stranger. But he might as well have been kissing a pillow, Anthony thought bitterly, and pulled back a moment later, frustrated by the fact that he wasnât able to find any damn satisfaction with the kiss. It didnât excite him; didnât stir his senses; didnât give him the damn thrill he wanted, and that infuriated him.
So instead Anthony found himself reaching once more for the cocktail that his brunette companion had brought for him earlier. At least that was the one thing that was sure to never disappoint, he thought, dark humour tugging at his lips. Good booze.Â











