Page 23 of Riding the Pine

I hear her come into the kitchen behind me, but I can’t bring myself to turn and face her yet. I take my time putting the bag on the counter and getting a glass from the cabinet. Then I load my glass with obnoxiously loud ice from the dispenser on the fridge door that ignores my scowling at it.

Fucking rude if you ask me. Can’t someone design a hangover-proof machine that makes and shoots out ice very quietly?

I shake the bottle of Powerade with my free hand before pouring it into the glass, taking a long, looooong, okay maybe too long chug of the cool, fruity liquid. I’m buying time; precious, but all too quick, seconds pass before I have to turn and face her.

When I eventually rotate so we’re face to face, I train my eyes on her nose, that cute button nose can’t make me feel like the piece of shit her deep swirling pools of chocolate eyes can. Nose is safe.

She waits patiently, but there’s a crackle in the air between us like a string pulled just a little too tight right before it snaps.

“Thanks for this,” I mumble, jiggling my glass and making the ice clink as it rattles around the bright blue liquid.

She nods. “There’s Pedialyte in the bag, you should take a couple of those. Fruit snacks, bananas, coconut water and some crackers with hummus.”

These are a few of my favorite things. My brain sings around the clashing of the metal discs from the now sugar-high thanks to Athena’s drink monkeys. I’d hoped the ice would have caused a brain freeze to numb the annoying little bastards, but it turns out that a hangover headache trumps freezing cold liquid.

Ugh.

Starting to feel sorry for myself now. All I want to do is make my way back upstairs under my blanket and sleep.

“Thanks. I love fruit snacks.”

Fucking idiot. She knows you love fruit snacks, asshole. That’s why she fucking brought them.

I need adult supervision.

Resisting the urge to knead the muscles at the bottom of my neck, I finally meet her eyes. Still no anger, only concern and uncertainty.

What the hell did I do last night?

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” I give in, sit my glass on the counter, and rub the back of my neck with my now cold palm.

She shakes her head, watching me like I’m a frightened animal that might take off at any moment while she nibbles at her lucky bottom lip.

Ah. Stop it. Go back into the box from whence you came, you annoying little feelings.

I’d slap myself in the head to try to clear out the thoughts but she’s already staring at me with a strange look in her eyes.

“Just making sure you’re okay. You’re not usually the one I have to worry about.” Her eyes sear into me as she doesn’t say what we both know she’s thinking. The youngest of the de la Peña quartet is the problem child, the drinker. In fact, he does way more than drink, but no one really seems to know how to handle him.

I shrug, still working the muscles in my neck. “I’m okay, just got carried away on the first week of school. It’s what we do, right?”

She looks at me but doesn’t say that her brothers kept themselves from underage drinking to excess last night.

“You were pretty out of it…”

I nod. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you’d been here until the guys…” I gesture toward her. “Then I got fragments back…” My face is so hot it could melt the ice floating in my drink. “I remember… eh…” I clear my throat and motion my arm toward her as though that may save me from the humiliation of this conversation.

“Taking my clothes off.” If aliens could come down from outer space right now and take me away that would be fucking peachy.

While I love the way her nose twitches when she laughs, I hate that she’s giggling at me right now because I have no fucking clue what she’s giggling at.

She crosses the short distance between us and pats me on the chest. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”

I roll my lips between my teeth before shaking my head.

“You gave me a lap dance,” she deadpans but the blood drains from my body.

She pats me again, and my heart thump-thumps in the same tap-tap pattern she’s drumming on my chest, like it’s answering her. “I’m kidding. You were very well behaved.”

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