He reaches for it.
I don’t hand it over. “It’s gonna cost you.”
Archangel tries to grab it out of my hand, but I don’t let him get it.
“I told you, you have to earn it.”
“Fine.” He stands in the middle of the water. “How am I earning this?”
I sip my beer, keeping his above my head. “First, are you feeling better about tomorrow?”
He sighs, sinking lower. “That’s fucking loaded. Yes, and no. My family acted better, but there will be a lot more extended family and friends at the shower.”
We did this a lot. Trade alcohol for answers. We’d both used it a lot to get shit out of the other that they didn’t want to talk about. We don’t really need it anymore. He would have told me if I asked, but I like it, and so does he.
“So talk to me about it. What are you worried about?”
“I don’t know. Just all of it. You put them in their place pretty good today, but the shower is going to be filled with all the worst people my mother knows.”
“I can hold my own.” I focus on him. “Are you worried about them being dicks?”
“No, I just am tired of their general attitude.”
“We can ditch.” I know he won’t even as I say it, but I have to offer.
“You know I can’t.” He swipes the beer from my grasp, and I let him have it.
“Then what can I do to make it go better? I’ll do anything you want.”
He perks up a little, getting a half smile that shows off a hint of his dimples. “Don’t play.”
I cross my heart. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
He shifts in his seat. He’s holding something back. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“You do that.”
What won’t he tell me? Now I have to fucking know. I won’t sleep unless I do. It’s the worst part of my brain sometimes, once I get a bug in it, I cannot let it go. I need a damn plan.
We drink and talk about the season. He loosens up more, but he’s still not talking openly. At some point he breaks open the vodka, and we’re both too fucking drunk, but he keeps pouring, and I keep taking the shots.
“Are you trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me?” I say playfully, covering the top of my glass when he tries to pour me another.
“Take advantage of you? Mister King of Cockblock himself.”
I gasp like he’s just delivered me a mortal wound. “I am a great wing man!”
“Only when you want to be.” Archangel throws back, taking a drink out of the fifth.
I grab it from him when he’s done and take my own drink. When he tries to take the bottle back, I withhold it. “What did your sister say?”
He hesitates. “She said you’re straight.”
“That’s not how straightness works! I’m dating a man.”
“She doesn’t believe it.” He’s cagey and trying to pretend it’s not a big deal, but I know him better than that.
“I guess I’m amping it up tomorrow.”
