“Give me that.” I snatched the dark green glass bottle from Zion’s lap.
But he didn’t react, his reflexes obviously delayed.
Instead, he straightened his legs, shuffling to find a more comfortable position on the withered log, one of the three surrounding the bonfire in the forest—a favored spot by many. Including Damia and Conall. But if the former let loose—like right now—the latter always looked after the fire to avoid setting the entire area ablaze. The summer had brought the drought with it.
Sniffing the liquid, I recoiled. Damia’s grandpa made some strong shit. Understanding how anyone could drink this evaded me to this day. It incinerated your insides instead of giving you a buzz.
“Get your own.” Reaching to grab the bottle back from me, Zion hiccupped. “What was”—Hiccup—“that?”Hiccup. He burst into a bout of laughter, slapping his thighs and leaning into Conall beside him. “Hic”—Hiccup—“—cups.” He covered his mouth. “Oh, no.”
Conall snorted. Looking right at me, he nudged Zion. “Your dad is here.”
I fixed him with a dirty look. “You know we have an early meeting tomorrow to discuss the expansion of the compounds? Led by our parents? Yours included?”
“I do. But it’s you who has to sit at the head of the table while we can sleep in the back,” Conall said, moving down the damp log to make way for the dancing and singing Damia.
Her tiny floral skirt billowed as she twirled around the fire, her dark, tight curls bouncing on her bare shoulders like a fluffy cloud. “The boy drank the aaaale, the girl ate the whaaaale, themom was in a disarraaaay, the dad—” Bumping into me, she caught herself on my chest, and beamed in her signature smile of ‘there’s nothing good to come, but don’t you dare tell anyone about it.’ “Gedeon.”
“Damia.” I steadied her drunken ass. “Those are not the lyrics.”
“It’s okay, you know. You don’t have to be perfect. I bet I could come up with some lines to includeyou.” She tapped my nose with the last word.
I pulled the strap of her yellow tank top back up onto her shoulder. “I think you’ve had enough.”
She giggled, and I took hold of her waist to prevent her from sprawling on the forest floor, the ground razed both by the summer heatwaves and the endless bonfires.
“Maybe.” Her pungent breath invaded my nostrils. “But don’t tell anyone.”
As if I ever did. She was the one getting us into trouble, her and Zion. Conall and I spent half of our time running after these two to keep them in line.
Keeping her close, I navigated us closer to Conall, where he sat in front of the crackling blaze. Heat blasted my exposed skin as I kept the swaying-on-her-feet Damia out of the harm’s way.
“Take care of her,” I told Conall once she had plopped her ass down on the log next to him.
He pulled her into his side. “Always do.”
Whether that meant letting her make a mess of herself or tucking her into bed was to be seen. Conall’s true intentions took different shapes depending on his mood. Though one thing was for certain—he collected each piece of information like his survival depended on it. Which also meant if he ever spoke up, you were fucked. The prick knew too much.
Toying with the hem of her favorite skirt, Damia pursed her lips. “You need to relax.”
“I am relaxed,” I said, pouring whatever concoction her grandfather had brewed onto the dried-out moss, far away from the fire. The brown liquid could burn down cities.
She sighed. “Getting rid of our drinks is not relaxing.”
“I have more.” Zion jumped up, swaying in the short distance between the log and the blaze. The idiot was going to fall into it.
Before he could produce another bottle from the pile resting under a maple tree, I blocked his way. “How much did you drink tonight?”
“Like I’m”—Hiccup—“telling you.” He moved to push past me, tripped, and would have face-planted into the ground if not for me seizing the back of his navy t-shirt.
The chatter of our friends lounging around drowned the sound of tearing seams. Nothing out of the ordinary, except out of all nights to get smashed, the moron had chosen the one before the big meeting tomorrow morning.
“Come on.” I glided an arm around his waist, righting him, his own resting on my shoulders. “Let’s get you home.” Taking his wrist, I imitated a wave at Conall and Damia. “Say bye-bye to your friends.”
He ripped his hand out of my grasp. “You’re lucky”—Hiccup—“you’re pretty.”Hiccup.“I would—”Hiccup. “Oh, for fuck’s—”Hiccup.“Hate—”Hiccup. “Enou—” His tirade mellowed out into a half-growl, half-grunt, and I used it as an opportunity to lead him away from everyone.
Night’s stillness escorted us during our short walk from the forest and into the grassy field surrounding my parents’ compound.
Still hiccupping,Zion leaned heavily onto me, and I thanked the fortune for our homes being located not far from the outskirts. He bordered on the brink of passing out, andalthough he was a year younger than me, he packed enough muscle to test my own weight.
