Page 4 of Crazy Pucking Love
I made my way to the drink table in the corner, picked up a red cup, and scanned the selection of alcohol, not sure what to go with, only that it wouldn’t be Sour Apple Pucker. After drinking way too much at a party about six months ago, I couldn’t even stand the smell of sour apple candy. The night had come along with an embarrassing singing and dancing video that my “friends” posted online for all to see—for the record, I was proud of the dancing, but there’s a reason I only sing in my shower—and since then I’d avoided drinking in public. And drinking alone always felt sad and emphasized the emptiness.
“When in doubt, go rum and Coke.”
I looked to my right, where the deep male voice had come from, only to see the guy I’d hit in the head earlier holding an amber-colored bottle. My jaw might’ve dropped, and there was no might’ve about my accelerating heart rate.
“You’re not drinking and darting are you?” he asked. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take away all sharp objects before I let you walk away with a drink.”
I smiled, enjoying the floaty feeling rising up and taking over my body.Here’s your second chance. Don’t ruin it.“What about you? How are you going to watch where you’re going if you’re drinking?”
“Wow. You went from ‘I’m sorry’ to ‘it was totally your own fault’ rather quickly. Here…” He took the cup out of my hand and set it next to his, uncapped the bottle of rum, and poured a couple of ounces in both cups.
He nudged me with his elbow, and I caught a whiff of something that gave me the sudden urge to hike into the woods with this dude, even though I was against hiking. And woods. “Just don’t tell anyone,” he said as he topped off the drinks with Coke. “I’m supposed to be off soda.”
Tell anyone? Whenever I was around him, I forgot how to properly form words.Me + tall, dark, and ripped funny college guy = speech impaired.
Luckily, by the time he handed me my drink, I had at least summoned the ability to say thank you.
“Sure thing.” He took a swig from his cup and I quickly did the same—a little too quickly, the soda bubbles fizzing in my throat and nose. The drink was delicious, just a hint of coconut instead of the overpowering alcohol taste I’d expected.
“I’m Megan, by the way.” I almost extended my hand, then thought that was more of a job interview type thing to do. Did college people shake hands when they met?Oh my gosh, I’m totally going to screw up this second chance with him.
“Dane.”
“I know this is probably a long shot, considering I assaulted you earlier, but would you like to play a game of darts? After all, sinceyoupoured me a drink, it’s the responsible thing to do.”
“The responsible thing to do would be to keep you far away from the dartboard.” He flashed me a smile that made my knees go wobbly on me. “Lucky for you, I don’t feel like being responsible tonight.”
Chapter Two
Dane
“Bro, how are you getting better at this the more you drink?” I asked Megan, and she laughed.
“Bro?”
Oops. I was so used to saying it with the guys that it’d slipped out, which just proved I’d drunk more than the recommended amount. We were playing the drinking version of darts, where the person with the lowest score per throw drank, and I’d lost enough that the colorful board occasionally moved when I tried to line up my shot. “Don’t change the subject. Did you switch your drink for water last round when I wasn’t looking?”
“Don’t be jealous that alcohol improves my aim.” She swiveled toward me, her dart raised, and I shielded my head with my arms, like I was terrified she’d get me again—really it was more mildly concerned, especially when it came to my eyeballs.
With a laugh, she stepped forward, grabbed my right arm, and tugged it down. With her this close, I could make out the strawberry strands twisted through her blond hair, and even in the dim light her bright blue eyes stood out.
My heart thumped hard in my chest. A fuzzy thought about this being a bad idea flitted through my mind, but I couldn’t remember why, and with her hand on my arm, I hardly cared.
“Watch this, because I’m about to win again.” Megan spun and squinted one eye, lining up her shot.
When I’d arrived at the Quad, my main goal had been to drink and destroy. Nothing so crazy or permanent as damaging property, or getting in a fight, but I was down for destroying some brain cells—or at least getting my thoughts to quiet down for a while. I knew it’d only be temporary, but I figured a party and alcohol would get me through the transition it always took to go from overwhelming guilt and what ifs to back to life at BC.
I could’ve used Hudson tonight, but my best friend had already dealt with a lot this Christmas break, what with his mom getting married to a guy he was struggling to like, and I didn’t think he and his girlfriend, Whitney, had made it back yet anyway.
But then Megan had hit me in the head with a dart, making the part of me that’d wanted to destroy stuff focus on something else. I’d kicked myself for walking away without getting her name, even though that wasn’t something I usually did anymore. I’d told myself it was for the best, but when I saw her at the drink table, my feet started toward her without a second thought.
Maybe it was because she’d looked as lost as I’d felt since arriving back in Boston this afternoon. Funny how a couple of weeks at home could undo all the progress I thought I’d made—progress that’d taken several months, and I’d backslid so quickly at just the sight of her.
Don’t think about her.
Think about this cute girl in front of you.
Megan threw the dart…and hit way high and to the right. Finally the alcohol was getting to her as much as it was me—she was starting to make me feel like a total lightweight, even if I had drunk twice as much.
