“No,” Brighton said slowly. Her own head was swimming a little, but she’d also had plenty of water and a generous helping of duck nachos. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t recall seeing Charlotte eat much more than a few nibbles.
“It’s definitely hot,” Charlotte said, her voice slurring her consonants.
“Uh-oh,” Brighton said.
“One too many,” Wes said. “Or maybe five.”
“Yeah,” Brighton said.
“What?” Charlotte said as Brighton looped an arm through hers.
“I think you’re drunk,” Brighton said.
“I am not.” Charlotte tilted to the side, then batted at her face. Brighton thought she might be trying to prove her sobriety by touching her nose.
It was kind of adorable.
“You most certainly are,” Wes said.
“I don’tgetdrunk,” Charlotte said. “Never have, never will.”Except her words came out like “Ner-ha-ner-will,” pretty much disproving her point.
Still, as Brighton laughed and she and Wes led Charlotte out of the bar and into the frosty night, she realized she’d never seen Charlotte Donovan actually drunk, or anything past buzzed. Not in high school, not in college. Their first night in Winter River, she’d definitely gotten tipsy but nowhere near drunk. Not like this. Charlotte hadtastedany wine they’d sneaked from Bonnie’s collection as teenagers, interested in blends and vintages, and at Berklee, she’d been far too focused to mess around with excess drinking. They’d gone to parties, but Charlotte had either sipped demurely or forgone alcohol altogether.
“If it’s notgood, why drink it?” she’d said one time at a Halloween party when they were sophomores. Brighton had been slurping happily on something green that admittedly tasted like a combination of bile and sour apple.
“I guess you liked those margaritas, huh?” Brighton said now, doing her level best to keep Charlotte from slipping all over the icy parking lot.
“I did,” Charlotte said. “They were delibous…delimous…”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Brighton said, laughing.
“Why can’t I say the word?” Charlotte said.
“Tequila.”
“Tequila!” Charlotte shouted into the night, pulling the attention of the rest of their group, who were already at the car. They turned as one, jaws dropping.
“Oh my god,” Manish said. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
“Charlotte,” Sloane said, hurrying toward them. “Are you okay?”
“She’s drunk,” Brighton said. “Very.”
“I’mnot,” Charlotte said, waving a finger at Brighton, then narrowing her eyes at her. “Youare very, very pretty.”
Brighton laughed, but her cheeks warmed nonetheless. She glanced at Wes, half wondering if maybe he’d be bothered by the comment, but he simply gazed between the two of them, a small smile on his face.
“Oh my god, I’ve never heard her compliment someone like that,” Sloane said. “Let’s get her in the car.”
“Wait, Charlottecomplimentedsomeone?” Elle asked.
“She said Brighton was pretty,” Sloane said as she took Charlotte’s other arm and led her toward Nina’s SUV.
“Sheispretty,” Charlotte said, then tipped her head back and looked at the sky. “Like the stars. The moon.”
“Wow,” Manish said. “We should keep some tequila on hand at rehearsals. I’d love more than a that-was-sufficient glare at the end of a concerto.”
Sloane slapped Manish’s chest as she passed him, then hauled Charlotte into the front seat.
