Unscramble Whiskey の小説・ストーリー

She was also a waitress, but eventually, Ruru assigned her to handle the expensive drinks. “Lisa! Were you not listening to my explanation earlier?” She waved the black cloth in front of my face. “Top Shelf Liquor is divided into two categories—Darks and Lights. Darks include Scotch, brandy, and whiskey. Lights include gin, tequila, and vodka,” she explained again. I nodded just to keep the conversation moving. Her voice was barely audible over the DJ’s music and the crowd dancing on the floor. She’s the only one who calls me Lisa. She said Cali sounds too common, Cal makes me sound like a guy, Lis is too short, and Lista makes me sound like a list of debts.

She's a waitress too, but over time, Ruru assigned her to handle the expensive drinks. "Lisa! Were you not listening to my explanation earlier?" She waved the black cloth she was holding in front of my face. "Top Shelf Liquor can be divided into two categories! Darks and Lights. The Darks include Scotch, Brandy, and Whiskey, while the Lights are Gin, Tequila, and Vodka," she explained once again. I nodded to move the conversation along, her words were barely audible over the DJ's music and the people dancing on the floor.

The apartment was dark, except for the dim light coming from the street. Sasha dropped his jacket over the chair, his body still tense. He walked straight past the living room, went to the bar, and grabbed the frosted glass bottle with the strongest amber liquid he had. A Russian whiskey that burned all the way to the soul. He poured it into the glass without measuring. He drank it as if it were water. He felt the liquid burn his throat, but said nothing. It was better than what was burning inside him.

White noise drowning out the roar in my head. I sat in the VIP booth—dark corner, bottle service, the usual. A half-empty glass of whiskey swirled in my hand, ice clinking against the sides. I stared at the amber liquid like it held answers. Like if I looked hard enough, it would tell me why everything felt like it was crumbling.

His arm went around me, giving me a tight hug before he let me go. “We have a few fun games planned.” Jo grabbed Cade and pushed him against the wall. I watched as all the guys got forced to line up and were handled a baby bottle. “What is this shit?” Alpha Jackson looked at his bottle and then at Jo. “It’s a baby bottle. Surely you knew that?” She smiled at him. “Okay, it is full of whiskey. The first person to finish their bottle, get’s this.” She held up a bottle of whiskey. “This is Old Rip Van Winkle. It’s a ten-year-old Bourbon that is worth around $1,000.”

I was there for their entertainment and amusement. After pouring some ice into the cup, The whiskey flowed into the cup, its golden liquid pouring smoothly into the glass. The ice cubes softly clink, releasing a gentle sound. As the whiskey touches the glass, its aroma rises, filling the air with warmth. The liquid swirls, releasing its rich scent, and inviting the senses to savour the moment. I never appreciated pouring whiskey before but it was a way to distract myself. After filling the cup, I walked slowly to Mikhail. His blank gaze never leaves, and our skin grazes each other. His touch was as electrifying as I remembered it.

Or whatever it is I'm doing right now. "Do you like scotch, then?" he says finally. "Actually, I've never had scotch," I blurt without thinking. When I realize I've just undermined my whole pick-up strategy, I rush on. "I mean, I've had whiskey. That's like scotch, right? Or..." Oh shit. What am I even talking about? "Or is scotch the same thing as whiskey? Or just whiskey that comes from Scotland? I know bourbon and whiskey are the same, and I like bourbon, and..." Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP.

Unrested, I paced to and fro, trying to think about a perfect strategy. Frustrated and angered by Bianca's stubbornness, I tossed my phone and black leather wallet onto the bed, the sound of them hitting the mattress a satisfying thud. I strode over to the mini-bar, and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. I poured myself a generous glass, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light of the room. I raised the glass to my lips, feeling the cool glass against my skin, and then gulped the whiskey down in one swift motion.

After hanging up, He strolled to his wine bar and brought out three different bottles of whiskey, he raised each one high up and scrutinized them with his eyes. Maybe wondering which will fit the celebration at hand, finally he set the last bottle down and made his choice. He opened the new brand-label whiskey and poured half of its content into the wine glass. He brought it to his lips and took a sip licking his lips in satisfaction. He suddenly began to laugh heartily, hell! It has been a long he felt so good. He just feels like dancing on top of the skies, maybe he should call those bastards Jasamina has as parents and share the good news with them.

Is whiskey really going to help? “Screw it. I need something to take the edge off.” I'm already turning into an alcoholic at this point.