Chapter 31
Stephanie
I am so drunk it’s not even funny. Drunk and filled with a giddy hope. Maddie and I, arms locked together, are wandering down the sidewalk toward our place. Alex is slightly behind me, whistling as he walks with us, his left arm in a sling. He showed up at our place just before six as Maddie was getting home from work and insisted he take us out for dinner. I tried to refuse, but he said he didn’t want to sit around and watch his team play without him. Honestly, I didn’t want to sit around and think about my problems anymore, so I went.
He never said a word about this whole thing, but I know he knows. How can he not? Still, I appreciated his silence on the matter because I was so over talking about it. And I was even more over thinking about it, which is why I agreed to dinner—and drinks. Lots of drinks.
We pass the street that borders the ocean where both Ty and Alex’s condos are located and we pause. I think it’s to say good-bye to Alex, but then Maddie turns to me. “I always meet Ty at his house after a road trip,” she slurs. At least I think she’s slurring. Maybe it’s the alcohol my brain is swimming in that makes it sound funny. “But I can text him and tell him to come by our place instead.”
“Why? Just go. It’s okay. I know my way home.” I give her a little hug that for some reason makes me almost tip over. I’ve honestly never been drunk. My youth was spent getting buzzed on weed and pills. I’d maybe have a beer or a cooler with the pills, but it only ever took one or two to make the pills stronger. Tonight, I am definitely drunk.
“You’re kind of drunk, so I should go back with you…,” Maddie argues.
“Maddie, I don’t need a babysitter,” I blurt, and my voice sounds weird. Higher than normal. “And if I do, Avery can babysit me.”
“Stephanie…”
“Do not ‘Stephanie’ me,” I tell her, and grin. “I’m fine. I’ll be even better tomorrow.”
“You’ll be incredibly hungover tomorrow, that’s what you’ll be,” Alex chirps from beside me. I look over and he’s grinning. He doesn’t seem drunk, at least not as drunk as Maddie and me.
“I can handle a hangover. I can handle lots of things,” I reply, and smile. “I don’t have a choice. I have to handle things. Lots of things.”
His mischievous grin grows deeper, causing a dimple I didn’t know he had in his scruffy left cheek. “I’d be very interested in finding out exactly what you can handle, little one.”
God. Always the sleazy flirt. I roll my eyes, which makes me a little dizzy somehow. “You couldn’t handle knowing what I can handle,” I reply, and wink.
He blinks, stunned for a second. “You head on up to Parson’s place,” Larue tells Maddie, and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I’ll make sure she gets home.”
Maddie bites her lip. I don’t want her to feel like she has to take care of me. I don’t want anyone to take care of me. So I nod. “Go. Seriously. I’ll be fine.”
Maddie turns her brown eyes to Larue and narrows them, crossing her arms over her ample chest like she’s trying to look intimidating. “Avery is coming over later. You know that, right?”
“Yeah.” Alex shrugs. “I’ll get her home safe and sound, for Avery. That’s it.”
“You two are acting like I’m a drunk high school virgin,” I announce, and shrug out from under Alex’s arm. “I’m fine. I can get home by myself. And then Avery will be there and everything will be fine. Maddie, stay. Alex, go home.”
I turn and keep walking down the street toward our place without looking back. But it’s not a graceful or speedy retreat because the ground seems completely uneven. When did that happen? I pause a second to steady myself on the side of a parked car by the curb and then continue down the sidewalk. I make it about twenty feet when Alex’s hand hits my shoulder like a fifty-pound weight, and I almost tip into his wide, strong chest.
“Easy there, kid,” Alex tells me, and without even looking up—way up—at his face I know he’s smirking.“T’es maladroite, belle.”
“I’m not,” I argue, even though he’s right. Iamclumsy right now. “The air is sobering me up.”
It is sort of true. There is a strong ocean breeze, and it is cool and salty. It feels good on my skin and burns off a little of the alcohol haze. Alex keeps his big hand on my shoulder anyway. “So Avery’s dealing with this well?”
“I think so. I’ll feel better about it…and us…when I see him later,” I explain. Hopefully by the end of the night, Avery and I will be solid again. That’s what I want more than anything.
I need to make coffee when I get home, to get rid of this buzz. I want to be clearheaded and alert when he gets to my place, even though it’ll probably be four or five in the morning. I need to be awake—to see him and talk to him—because it is the only way I will believe that this hasn’t ruined everything between us. Avery’s past, unlike mine, has always been out in the open; I know he abandoned his friend Trey when people found out he was an addict. He doesn’t seem to be abandoning me, but I won’t feel secure until I see him and talk to him in person.
I trip over my own feet and Alex reaches out and catches me effortlessly with his one good arm. It’s starting to make me feel like I’m a toddler learning to walk and he’s my dad. He pulls me into his side and holds me to him. He’s a wall of muscle and strength. It feels good. Not Avery good, but good. I let him guide me down the street because it’s easier than trying to keep myself upright.
“I hope you plan on going straight to bed, young lady,” he advises me. “You are in no condition to be somebody’s naked mambo partner tonight.”
“I’m fine.”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and when I look up at him he’s grinning mischievously the way that makes you realize why girls find him adorable. “Well, for Westie, maybe. I mean if he’s all about the boring, slow missionary thing, the fact that you’re beyond drunk probably won’t matter. I mean you could even pass out and he might not even notice.”
I glare at him…at least I think I’m glaring. “For your information, Avery is not Mr. Boring Missionary. He’s not the monk you guys think he is. He’s definitely more experienced than me.”
