Page 56 of Powerless
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Gervais. Answer the question!”
“I don’t know, Sloane.” His breath puffs out in front of him as we walk the short path back to our hotel room. “It’s hard to imagine you ever asking me to do that because you know me so well. Really proved you understand how much I hate that shit by shooting from the hip like a total nut.”
My head whirls, and I lean on his sturdy form. “Or!” I hold one finger up triumphantly. “Shooting from the tits!”
“Lord, help me,” he groans.
“Like the ladies on Austin Powers! You know the ones. The bullet bras? Sooo cool.”
“Thanks for looking out for me, Sunny,” is all he responds with as he gives me a squeeze.
I rest my head against the edge of his shoulder. “Always, Jas. Plus, I think those girls really liked me.”
16
Jasper
Harvey:You kids got somewhere safe to spend the night?
Jasper:Yeah. Hotel in Rose Hill.
Harvey:Two rooms or one? ;)
Jasper:Don’t be weird. One room, two beds.
Harvey:I’m not weird. You’re the one with a crush on your cousin.
Jasper:She’s not my cousin.
Harvey:Ha! But you didn’t deny the crush.
Sloane is drunk.
Hilariously hammered. Totally unfiltered.
And leaning on me way harder than I ever imagined someone her size could.
Her soft giggles accompany the low hum of the yellowish neon lights above us in the hotel hallway, and she keeps stepping on my feet.
“You’re a ballerina. Aren’t you supposed to be graceful?”
She ignores me, tilting her head up in my direction. “Have you noticed that you have a zit right . . .” She pokes a spot right near my hairline that curves around my temple.
I snort. “No, Sloane. I haven’t been concerned with my skin of late.”
“It’s annoying. I bet you wash your face with shampoo, never moisturize, and only put sunscreen on when you’re on vacation. And you still look like that.” Her hand waves over the length of my body.
I reach into my pocket and pull out our room key, giving it a quick swipe before pressing into the room. “I wash my face with bodywash.”
She groans and tosses her head back dramatically, staring at the ceiling. “You can’t do that.”
“Why? My face is part of my body.”
“It doesn’t have the right stuff in it.” She sways as she pulls at her shoes, and I stifle a laugh. “Even if it smells heavenly, like mint and whatever else.”
“Mint and eucalyptus. Same bodywash I’ve used for years. What stuff does my face need?”
A shoe flies past us and hits the wall. “Whoa!” Her eyes widen and she giggles again. I count my blessings that she’s a happy drunk. I don’t think I could handle her being sad right now. “Vitamin C. Peptides. Exfoliating acids. You’re not getting any younger. You should consider a retinol, but then you need to put sunscreen on every day. Oh my god!” The next shoe follows suit and she swaggers into the bathroom. “I have the best idea.”
