Page 20 of Cross the Line
“Drink, pretty boy,” Presley heckles with a sneer, starting off an all-around chant, “Drink, drink, drink… drink!”
Ryker hands me a glass filled to the brim with the liquor he brought. It takes one sip for me to know it’s not for me.
“Come on, Hallman!” Hughes claps, moving the game along quickly.
A piteous grimace scrunches his face as he holds the card up to me and mouths,Sorry.
“Eight is mate,” Hughes hollers over the chorus ofoooosfrom the guys around us. “Pick a mate to drink with, Hallman.”
God, please, no.I groan to myself when Ryker toasts his glass to mine. I’m still trying to put out the fire in my stomach.
I take a small sip to keep the game moving and take the attention away from me. Much to my dismay, the next guy gets an ace, and we all have to drink until he stops.
He doesn’t stop until he’s finished his glass and most of mine is gone. I’m doing everything I can not to sputter or heave while my insides drown in hot water.
The guy to my left gives me a mini can of soda to wash the aftermath of the waterfall down. I pour it down my throat in one gulp, gutted when the cool fizz finishes.
“Thanks,” I tell him while the game continues.
I’m good for a stretch—until Presley’s turn. He holds up a Jack and smirks. “Make a rule… make a rule…”
“Hurry up, Tomes!” Hughes starts a countdown.
“Ah, I know.” Presley scans the circle, grin turning mean. “If your name ends with an H, you drink every time an even card hits.”
“What the fuck?” Cash groans.
“Suck it up, dickhead,” Presley flips him off.
The game continues with a King, another three, and a seven. Four guys away from my next turn, and it all goes south. I drink every single time with another waterfall before my turn.
I know I’ll never be able to keep up with the game when the warmth of the liquor slips down my throat and a hard shiver cuts down my spine as it lines my stomach. I don’t know why the guys love vodka so much. It doesn’t matter what I chase it with; the heat it holds in my gut makes me retch.
“You’ll get used to it,” Ryker mutters, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he leans in closer. “I heard my dad say this is the best vodka. The Japanese stuff is more expensive than the Russian, and it tastes better.”
“It’s awful.” I shudder watching him pour more of the clear liquidinto his glass. “Tastes like nothing and something totally unpleasant all at once.”
I’m relieved when my next card is a King, and I pour part of my drink into the glass in the middle. I just want to be done with this glass so I can get out of here.
Ryker takes another card, grimacing at me as he shows me the six of clubs.
“Six is for dicks. Unless you are a pussy or have a pussy drink up, motherfuckers!” Hughes announces. “Sylkes, that’s two drinks for you.”
No. I can’t.
Please, God. Please, no.
“Pretty little bitches don’t get to play with the big guys,” Presley calls across the circle.
“Come on,” Ryker nudges my leg with his.
“You’re not just a pretty little bitch, right, Sylkes? You’re a man… huh?” Crawling across the green carpet, Presley leans closer, eyes spearing into mine when my phone rings in the pocket of my jeans.
Before I check, I know it’s Finley. She calls me after every game when everyone has gone to bed, and she can hide in her closet without the risk of her parents finding her talking to me.
When I try to get up, Presley shoves me back down. The drink in my hand spills all over my chest as the glass tumbles up into the air with the whoosh of my breath. I don’t know if it’s the liquor or the rush to get out of here, but my moves are sludgy and slow as he pulls my phone from my pocket, his scornful glare on the screen.
“Give it back,” I bark at him, pushing myself up into his face, gripping my phone awkwardly around his hand.
