We say nothing for a while. She slowly lowers back down to stand flat on her feet, her head resting against my chest, then she clears her throat. “That was nice.”
“Yes, it was.” More guilt.
“You know,” she voices aloud, “you’re my first kiss. The first I remember anyway.”
I laugh, allowing the tension to drain from my body. “I hope it didn’t suck too bad.”
She tips her head up at me and slays me with a sexy smile. “I’ll need another one to compare it to.”
Holy hell. Who is this girl? This Liz is potent and sexy and dangerous, and if I’m not careful, I realize, I could be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
I pick up the dessert box and grab her hand. “Come on. I’m taking you out.”
“What if I already have plans?”
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Good. You’re mine for tonight.” Jay has the truck, so I open my app to hail an Uber.
It’s after midnight when I slam the front door open and stumble backward to close it. It may have taken me about ten tries with the key to unlock it. I am so drunk right now. I never drink. When Liz and I happened upon a local bar doing a karaoke night, her face lit up like Christmas. Of course, I insisted we go in if it kept that happy expression on her face the rest of the night. We danced, she sang, she forced me on stage to do a duet with her. I used my fake ID at the bar to get us alcohol. I would buy it and bring it back to the corner table we had chosen because it was quiet and didn’t attract the attention of waitresses. We drank. A lot. Liz outdrank me, which is shockingly surprising because Liz never used to drink. By the time we did our sixth shot of tequila, I was wasted and she was only tipsy. Does having memory loss also make your body not remember to get drunk after three beers and six shots of hard liquor?
“Jules, is that you?” Ryder calls from his open bedroom door.
“Yuup!” I weave to the living room sofa and collapse face down. I hear footsteps coming down the hall and wince when a light comes on. “Fuck, man. Turn it off. That shit hurts.”
“Julien, are you drunk?”
Not too drunk to give him my middle finger, even with my face smashed in the sofa cushion. Ryder’s booming laughter makes my head throb. “Please be quiet,” I mumble into the cushion. I hear Ryder walk away and then noises from in the kitchen. I want to die. I roll over and make several grabs for my phone in my back pocket.
Me: Never drinking again. Ur evil.
Ten seconds later.
Liz: Poor baby (insert mwah ha ha evil laugh)
Liz: Did you Uber home ok?
Me: Yes. Dying now.
Liz: Get some sleep, pretty boy.
Me: Nite.
Liz: Goodnight, Julien.
I throw my phone across the floor and collapse back again. When I next open my eyes, Ryder is thrusting some nasty green shit in a glass at me and a couple of pain relievers.
“Drink this, followed by the these. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Feeling like a newborn babe on trembling arms, I sit up halfway to take the stuff. I eye the green liquid for a long time and then say fuck it. Nothing can be worse than the pounding in my head.
“This stuff’s rancid,” I complain as I guzzle it all, and then down the pills. Ryder takes the glass from me and sets it on the coffee table.
“Where’s Jay?”
Ryder sits on the sofa arm next to my head. “At a fight. Where else.”
