Page 19 of Hard Rock Love
“Tell me — who’s the one always plying the band with drinks?” she said.
“That’s all in good fun,” Seth said. “I’ll make sure Abby doesn’t get carried away.”
Everly pursed her lips, but nodded.
“I’ll go look for Julian, then,” she said. “Make sure no creepy guys hit on her. And you keep you hands to yourself, too,” Everly reminded Seth. It was said with a teasing smile on her face, but her eyes were sharp.
He gave her a salute with two fingers against his brow.
“I’ll make sure the lady’s honor remains intact,” he said.
“I can take care of myself,” I cut in, but no one listened to me.
Everly left in search of Julian, leaving me and Seth alone in the kitchen. Seth slumped against the counter, feigning relief.
“Man, she’s intense,” Seth said.
“She just worries about me,” I said. “Too much, sometimes. That’s what big sisters do, I guess.”
“Are you enjoying the drink?” he asked.
I looked down at the bottle.
“I guess I am,” I said.
It was almost empty. I’d been sipping on it mindlessly while Everly had been lecturing Seth.
“Maybe I’ll wait a while before I get another one,” I said. I nodded to the drink in Seth’s hand. “What about you?”
“This?” he gestured to his plastic cup. “This is a virgin rum and Coke.”
“So just Coke?” I asked.
“As much as I love mixing drinks, I’ve actually got a shit tolerance for alcohol,” he explained. “I don’t need the guys dragging my sorry ass back home, either.”
I leaned against the island next to Seth, putting my elbows on the cool marble. Seth rocked in place from foot to foot. His colorfully tattooed arm brushed mine where he’d braced it against the edge of the counter. I almost thought I could feel the strong muscles of his forearm shifting.
That smallest of touches, the briefest contact of skin to skin, sent a shiver running through me.
I’d barely had anything and I was already feeling a slight buzz. I guess I had a shit tolerance, too.
“Why do you like drinking games so much if you can’t handle your own?” I asked him.
“‘Cause it’s fun,” Seth replied.
“How is it fun if you end up drunk and sick all the time?”
“There’s not actually a lot of alcohol in my drinks, compared to the gross stuff I put in them. And someone usually calls game over before we get too hammered. Well.Usually,” he grinned. “My drinks are way too awful. No one really wants to drink that many of them.”
“But how is it fun if the drinks are gross?” I asked, still not getting it.
“It’s less about the alcohol and the drinking,” he replied. “It’s more about the game, you know? It gets everyone together, all laughing and chatting.”
“Aren’t you always together all the time anyway, doing band stuff?”
“That’s different,” he said. “During the game, everyone’s bitching and griping about me and the drinks. Gives them a common enemy. Sometimes things get pretty tense when we’re working. If they’re all ganging up on me, it gets the others all on the same side. It sort of helps heal any bad blood that’s come up while working together. It also gets their mind off other things.”
“Things like what?” I asked.
