Page 38 of Whiskey Chase
Devlin didn’t seem to understand the concept of the school bus. “But what about my SUV?” he asked for the third time pointing in the exact opposite direction of where we’d parked.
“Honey, none of us can drive. That’s what the school bus is for. They’re gonna drive us home.”
“But, what about my car?” he asked again.
I grabbed his face in my hands, enjoying the feel of his beard on my palms. “I’ll drive you back for it tomorrow.”
“Mokah,” he said, finally appeased.
I released his cheeks. Bootleg took our fast pitch softball seriously like all our good times. That’s why there was a fleet of school buses waiting to drive everyone home. The visiting teams were always required to have their own bus and designated drivers who could enjoy all-you-can-eat hot dogs during the games.
Wednesdays were known as Wasted Wednesday in Bootleg. Everyone was too hungover to do much of anything besides eat greasy foods and tell everyone else to keep it down.
Devlin had held his liquor better than I expected. He was still on his feet. Bowie and Jameson were dragging Jonah onto the bus singing a truly horrible version of “Friends in Low Places.” I pulled him into a seat and took the aisle to pin him to the window if need be.
“You’re so pretty, Scarlett,” he said staring at me with one eye.
“You’re pretty far gone, huh, Dev?”
He shook his head. “I am drunk. I’ll concede on that point. But there’s just something about you. I think I like you a lot,” he added in a loud whisper.
“I think I like you a lot too,” I said, amused.
“You’re like a shot... of...”
“Moonshine?” I suggested.
He shook his head and rapped it off the window. “Ow. No, more like whiskey. You go down with a kick.”
That was a compliment I could appreciate. “Well, thanks, Dev. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“I want to kiss you.”
I think he meant to whisper it, but it came out at full volume.
“Oooooooh!” the bus’s occupants crooned.
“Hey, Scar, did Devlin pass you a note during third period asking if you liked him?” Cassidy asked, her head popping up over the seat.
“Do you want me to write you a note?” he asked with a frown.
“You should definitely write her a note,” Buck agreed.
“I’ve got a pen and paper,” Opal called helpfully from two rows back.
“Y’all are the worst.”
Fifteen minutes later, I helped Devlin and Jonah stagger off the bus at my place with a sweetly scrawled note from Devlin in my back pocket.
“Jonah, you go on ahead,” Devlin decided. “I’m gonna stay here and kiss your sister.”
“‘K,” Jonah said waving and stumbling over a hydrangea in the flowerbed he was wading through.
I clapped my hands to get his attention. “Through the woods, Jonah. Not through the flowerbeds.”
“‘K,” he said again and walked into a tree.
“He’ll be fine,” Devlin said optimistically.
