Daniel’s drunk.
“Just one more,” he slurs.
“You said that two hours ago,” I softly say, surveying his face.
His face is flushed, eyes are glazed, and he has this dopey smile pasted on.
“I know, but…” he laughs to himself and cups my face, his heavy-lidded eyes pinned on me. “You’re so beautiful. Like really, really beautiful, do you know that?”
I smile and attempt to guide him away from the kitchen table filled with all the drinks, but he doesn’t budge. He’s rotated everywhere, from the keg stand, to the beer pong table—anywhere alcohol is at.
“And I really, really, like, really like you.” He kisses my forehead and inhales. “You smell so good. I love the way you smell. I have to tell you a secret.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” I grab his hand and usher him to the corner of the kitchen, doing my best to keep him steady as he stumbles over his feet.
Once we’re in the corner, he leans down until his lips graze my ear. “I’m obsessed with you.”
My body warms. “Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm, sooo obsessed…I just want to make you happy. You deserve to be happy. I’m sorry.” There’s melancholy in his voice and when I peer up at him, sadness dims his eyes.
“You don’t need to be sorry. I am happy. I promise.” My heart lurches in my chest.
“I do. I am. I’m sorry,” he whispers the words fragilely.
“No, it’s okay. Let’s go home, okay?” I grab his hand, once again trying to get him out, but he pulls me back to the table.
“Just one more, just one more.” He spins us around and walks backwards to the table, but in the process, he crashes against someone and their drink spills all over him.
“Sorry, Danny.” Ryan, one of his teammates, winces. “I didn’t see you.”
“It’s all right,” he flippantly remarks and gives him an okay sign.
Angel’s next to him in an instant and levels me with a look of apprehension. I think I’m mirroring the same expression because he nods.
“You mind cleaning this up?” he asks Ryan.
“Yeah, I got it.” He smiles at them, unaware that Daniel isn’t acting like himself.
I get it. They’ve always seen him happy, and he looks that right now, but I know something is wrong. I wish I knew—other than being here physically for him—what to do to make him feel better.
“Come on, you need to change.” He places Daniel’s arm around his shoulder and snakes his arm around his back.
“You got him?” Noah eyes the guys, but stares at Daniel’s wobbly body the longest.
“Maybe come with, just in case,” Angel supplies and leads him through the house until all four of us are up in his bedroom.
“You guys are doing way too much. I’m fine.” He stumbles over his words and feet as he attempts to take his shirt off. “I’m fine. F. I. N. E.”
“Here let me—” Angel says, but Daniel swats his hand away. “Danny, don’t?—”
“It’s okay. I got it.” I take his place.
“There you are. I missed you.” He pouts and pulls me in for a hug.
“I’m right here.” I let him hold me and walk him backwards until he’s in front of Angel’s bed and force him to sit. “Here, let me help you take this off.”
He easily lets me, but when his shirt comes off, he looks down at his chest and he shoots up. “My chain. I need my chain.” He pats his chest repeatedly, as if that’ll make it appear.
