Inside the house, bodies are everywhere, the floors and walls are shaking with the thrumming bassline of whatever noise is playing.
“I challenge you to tic tac toe, Bright Eyes.” A very glassy-eyed Scott steps into view holding two small stacks of solo cups, red and yellow. He hands me the red stack, then picks up my hand and tugs me through the packed foyer into the kitchen.
On the floor, there’s a taped-out grid about ten feet away. Scott places his pile of plastic cups on a little card table between us before swaying. My dude has clearly had a few drinks. He smiles at me with the goofiest smile I’ve ever seen. “You look so pretty today.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen drunk Scott. A couple beers here and there, sure, but this whole underage drinking vibe couldland the whole fucking lot of them on the bench, and the last thing any of them needs, is to be riding the pine right out of the gate.
This was exactly what I was afraid of, finding them inebriated and getting themselves on the radar for being drunken assholes.
On thesecond day of school.
Scott tosses back a shot of what smells to be Fireball. Fucking hell.
“ThreeTwoOneGo!” He grabs a cup from the top of the stack and runs toward the taped grid on the floor. He drops his cup in the center tic tac toe box and dashes back toward me. And by dashes, I mean stumbles over his own feet.
He shoves me, probably a little harder than he means to because he gasps and steadies me with both his hands on my biceps. Face to face, a faint smell of cinnamon in the air between us, and that crooked, adorable smile staring straight at me. I admit, my heart skippety-dips a couple times. “You know how to play the game, right? You’re supposed to take a cup, run, and race against me. Or maybe you don’t know how to play tic tac toe.” His hand flies to his chest on a gasp.
“Is that it?” He drops his voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve never played tic tac toe? Athena de la Peña, say it ain’t so!”
Savannah appears with my two very lucid looking brothers who regard Scott with amusement. I give them my best big sister glare, swoop my index finger around in the air a couple times to tell them to wrap this party all the fucking way up, and the three of them nod in understanding and leave.
Scott chuckles, gesturing wildly at the lonely yellow solo cup in the middle of the game grid on the floor. When I don’t move, he tips his head to the side, urging me on. “Come on, Henny.”
Savannah calls me Hen, as in mother hen. A nickname my family and friends have taken to using, but never Scott. He’s most definitely drunk.
“One game.” He holds up a finger that sways back and forth as he hiccups.
With a heavy sigh and an eye roll, I pick a cup off my pile and stride to the game on the floor. I drop my cup onto the top right corner square and return to the card table where Scott’s leaning. He’s wearing sweatpants and a fucking t-shirt. Like he’s just so cool he didn’t need to make an effort to show up at a party in his own home. Grey sweatpants and a black, round neck tee stretched across his broad chest.
He stands with a knowing smile, like he’s aware of my eyes roaming over his body, but he doesn’t care. His arms are folded, muscly, bulging arms being all muscly in the dim, party ambient lighting.
As I stand next to him, he hands me another cup from the pile and picks one up from his own. “On three.”
Another eye roll. This is not what the plan was, but as long as my brothers and Vannah wind down the party, there’s no harm done.
Scott throws back another shot despite my glaring at him as he poured it. He winks at me, and a shimmer of butterflies erupt in my stomach sucking the breath from my body. I am not this girl, especially not with a drunk jock.
“Three.” He readies himself, but he’s swaying, and there’s every chance that my friend will fall right on his pretty boy face.
“Two,” I add, giving in to the game and offering him a smirk.
“One.” I take off toward the game board, but as predicted, my good friend Scott sways, grabs the card table, putting too much weight on it making it collapse.
I rush to catch him before he eats dirt, sliding my arm across his back and hauling him upright. He’s not dead weight, but he’s also like a slippery eel, sliding out of my grip.
“Let’s get you to bed.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. The air gets sucked out of the room as it starts to spin.
His deep chuckle rumbles through my entire body, settling right in my fucking crotch because of course it would.
His body pressed against my arm, my arm pulling him to me, his body heat radiating through his thin t-shirt makes for a very difficult time for me because the still-fluttering butterflies won’t shut the fuck up.
The crowd is thinning, the music switched off, and as I guide Scott to the stairs, my brothers are passing through the rooms with garbage bags picking up the debris and detritus around the space.
Apollo points to Scott in my arms, but I shake my head and mouth that I’ve got him. I’m not sure why. His arm is across my shoulders, and I’ve got his left hand clasped in mine. Part of me worries that if I were to try to pass him off to my brother, we’d both end up on our asses.
No thank you. This is faster, more efficient, and sure, maybe I like having an excuse to basically be cuddling him. He smells nice, so what?
He’s muttering to himself as we meander upstairs swaying from side to side but I’m too focused on making sure we keep going up and don’t end up falling backward to actually concentrate on the words.