He holds a bottle of beer tightly, gripping the glass as if he might drop it if he loosens his fingers.
“What’s up, man?” He slaps his palm against Judas’s, then drags his hand over his buzz cut.
His gaze shifts to me.
“Who’s this?” He licks his lips and steps closer.
Judas stops him halfway, his fist bunching in his shirt, pulling him back by the chest. “Okay, okay. I get it, man.”
“Sister,” I say, smiling.
“Oh, oh.” He laughs and shoves Judas’s shoulder. “I thought she was one of your one-night stands.” He lifts the bottle and takes a drink.
I raise a brow and look between them. Then I cross my arms over my chest. “We keep it in the family.”
Joking. Obviously.
His eyes go wide. Beer spills from his mouth, splashing all over Judas, making him tilt his head as he looks at me.
“Sorry,” I whisper, pushing my helmet into Judas’s hands.
I slip past them and step inside.
The house is packed—too many bodies for the tiny space. They all dance in front of the DJ, blurring together. On the sofa in the middle, a crowd of people gather to play games while girls dance around them.
The night swallows me whole.
They all look my age. Maybe one or two years older.
A girl with red hair steps toward me, dancing as she comes. She holds two red plastic cups in the air, smiling widely as oureyes meet. When she stops in front of me, she presses one into my hand.
“Here,” she laughs. “I have no clue who you are, but welcome to my sweet seventeen.”
I glance at the cup, then at her. “Sweet seventeen?”
“Yeah.” She grins. “I decided every birthday should be like a sweet sixteen.”
“I mean...” I lift the drink toward my mouth. “I don’t judge.”
I’m about to take a sip when Judas appears out of nowhere and knocks the cup from my hand. Whatever was in there splashes across the floor.
I stare at him, trying to piece together why he did it, but all he does is shake his head once.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I rake my eyes over him.
He grabs me under the arm and drags me toward the entrance.
“What?” I shout.
His jaw tightens. His eyes roll as he yanks his phone from his pocket and types fast, then shoves the screen in front of me.
Never, ever accept drinks from strangers.
I blow out a breath.
“Fine.” My pride refuses to back down. “Then make me one.”
He shakes his head and points a finger at my face.
