Page 114 of To Love or to Lose
We enter the kitchen, which is always the most vacated room of every party. Low and behold, Logan Callaghan is leaning against the island.
“Hello, ladies.” He smiles, already handing a solo cup to Winnie.
“What is it?” She asks, holding the rim of the cup to her lips.
“What do you think?” He asks sarcastically.
He knows what drinks she likes, so it’s no surprise when she smiles after taking a sip. “Vodka cranberry.”
“I have a feeling it’s ninety-five percent cranberry juice, five percent vodka,” Eloise jokes.
We laugh as Logan makes the two of us drinks, handing us the solo cups once he’s done.
For some reason, I notice Jameson’s absence more than I usually would. “Hey, you wouldn’t know where Jameson is, would you?” I ask Logan.
“Um…” He looks shocked at my question. “Last place I saw him was outside by the firepit. I would check there.”
All of us step out of the kitchen. Winnie and Eloise head back toward the living room while Logan and I make our way to the back door.
“Thanks,” I tell him when we part. He walks back to where Winnie and Eloise are, and I exit out the back door.
Outside is not nearly as packed and not nearly as loud. It’s relieving, like I can suddenly breathe air that isn’t concentrated with alcohol.
I spot Jameson quickly.
He’s sitting near the fire, away from the main crowd of people. He has a solo cup identical to mine in his hand, but it looks as if he’s only been taking leisurely sips.
“Not your crowd?” I ask as casually as possible as I sit next to him.
“Parties have never really been my thing,” he answers without looking over. He takes a sip of his drink, not seeming to be enjoying it much.
“Never been mine either.” I take the first taste of my drink, and to my immediate surprise, it’s not too terrible.
“What are you drinking?”
“Will you be concerned if I say I have no idea?” He sounds like he’s joking, but I can tell by the way his nose upturns every time it nears the cup that he’s not.
“Well, considering I don’t know what I’m drinking either, I would say no,” I note. “Unless you think we need to be concerned. Are you feeling okay? Are you seeing double?”
“I feel fine, not seeing double.”
“Then that drink must be pretty good, considering you haven’t been drugged yet.”
“Yet?” He smiles slightly in jest, just like me. “Are you planning something?”
I lift my shoulders playfully. “I guess you’ll never know. But, if your drink is gross, then maybe you should stop drinking it.”
He holds it out to me. “You want to try it?”
“Not necessarily.” He places it in my hand anyway. “But I guess a sip won’t hurt.”
Normally, I would never willingly share a drink with anybody. However, based on Jameson’s reaction every time he takes a drink, I can assume there’s enough alcohol to wash away a substantial amount of germs from his cup.
Jameson also feels different from any other boy who has tried to share a drink with me. He seems cleaner, like he can’t stand filth in the same way I can’t.
I break from my thoughts and realize that he’s watching me intently as I lift the drink—his drink—to my lips. I stop before it can make it all the way there.
“You’re not trying to poison me or anything, are you?”
