Pen giggles as she washes her hands. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I really don’t care if you like him or if you…” She shudders dramatically. “Mess around with him. I just don’t want to know the details. So please, please, please, spare me from them because the girls on the cheer team have no filter and I constantly hear their feral thoughts about him.”
“I have no intention of sleeping with him.” But why am I thinking about it now?
She stifles a laugh, the expression on her face saying,I’ve heard that before. “Whatever happens between you and my brother, stays between?—”
“Please don’t spare me any of the details. I’m here for it. So don’t be afraid to share anything with me,” Vi interjects, her dopey smile stretching from ear to ear.
“As long as I’m not there,” Pen quickly adds. The terrorized look on her face almost makes me laugh, but I don’t. Though Vi doesn’t hold back, she tosses her head back and laughs. “I’m serious. That includes your filthy dreams and fantasies about him.”
“Nothing is going to happen. I promise, I’m not into and never will be into Daniel.” I twist the knob and pull the door open. The last words get lost by the intensity of the volume of those who are singing “Knife Talk” by Drake as it plays downstairs.
I amble toward the stairs but stop when I don’t feel the girls behind me. When I peer over my shoulder, they’re looking at each other like they’re sharing a secret. Knowing smiles then are directed at me, and something mischievous shines in their eyes.
I want to ask them what that’s about but when the song switches to “Mo Bamba” by Sheck Wes, the girls are rushing down the stairs and hauling me with them.
“No more Danny talk! We need shots!” Pen announces.
“Don’t worry, you can talk about Danny all you want to me.” Vi winks, laughing as Pen shoots her a glare. “Details included.”
It takes us longer to get past the crowd in the living room as there’s more people. I can’t even hear the girls as everyone sings—well, more like screams—the song at the top of their lungs.
Once we make it to the kitchen, Vi grabs three mini Solo cups and manages to find a bottle of tequila on the counter. She fills each cup to the brim and before I can question her about howwe’ll be feeling the next day, she shoots me thisdon’t think about it, just drinklook. And then she pours another and another.
As the third shot hits the bottom of my stomach, the entire house becomes louder than before, singing the four words that gets everyone going. More alcohol is brought up from another room and keg stands are placed in the middle of the kitchen.
The fourth shot has my vision tripling. I have to set my cup on the counter, shaking my head that I’ll be black-out drunk in the next few seconds if I drink any more.
The girls giggle uncontrollably and drag me back to the living room as the next song comes on.
Everything’s happening too fast and before I can tell them that I really don’t want to dance and pull back, someone bumps into me and almost knocks me down.
A hand grabs my wrist, stabilizing me, before my face meets the ground.
“Shit, I’m sor—” Daniel looks apologetic at first, but when he realizes it’s me, his face lights up. “Sorry, it’s tight in here.”
“That’s what he said,” I snort but cover my mouth a few seconds later. Not sure if he heard what I said, but at the knowing grin, I know he did.
Daniel’s eyebrows hike up, his lips shifting into a cunning smirk. There was hardly any space between us, but when he tugs my wrist, pulling me forward, I can’t help but let myself close the remaining distance. His bare chest is almost pressed to mine, and if I wasn’t already intoxicated, the scent of his cologne finishes the job because I feel extremely delirious right now.
He leans down, until I feel his warm breath at the shell of my ear, his thumb gently grazing the curve from my wrist down to my thumb. “I wouldn’t know anything about that but…”
He might be just as drunk as I am because I don’t think sober Daniel would say that, at least to me. The hint of beer on his breath tells me just as much.
If it was someone else, I’d feel repulsed, but I oddly find myself standing straighter until my chest is pressed against him. “But what? Do you want to find out?” The words spill out slow and slurred. My head becomes a jumbled, fuzzy mess, my face numbs, and my entire body tingles with anticipation.
My eyes widen as a pulse settles between my legs and my heart stutters out of control.
“You’re drunk,” he points out and thank God because it sobers me momentarily. Like a bucket of water, the heat is doused. “But I want you to dance with me.”
“As long as you behave.” I wince internally, feeling embarrassed. What the hell was that? That didn’t sound flirty, but why am I trying to flirt with him?
“That won’t be a problem, Josefine.” His voice deepens, sending a shiver to scatter down my spine. “Unless…”
“Unless?” I say, almost breathless.
“Can I touch you?”
My breath hitches and my nipples harden. “Where?”
