“Levine has already found his conquest for the night,” he says, gesturing to him.
Jamie Levine, one of the rookies, is leaning into a young girl's personal space, one hand on her hip, and she looks like she’s loving it. She’s leaning right back, her eyes locked on him as she hooks one hand around the back of his neck.
“It appears he has,” Calvin says. “Are you on the lookout tonight?”
I know it shouldn’t bother me, but I hate it when Fletcher talks about women with the guys. We aren’t together. We’ve never been together and never will be. I have no right to get upset, but I do. Fletcher has never been one to flaunt his dates or hookups, though. I can’t remember the last time he went on a date.
Not that I can talk. I’m likely pregnant with another man’s baby. Talk about being a hypocrite, Lydia. Pot, meet kettle.
Fletcher immediately shakes his head. “Nope. Are you?”
Calvin shrugs, glancing around the room. “Nope.”
He changes the subject, and an hour and a half later, both Fletcher and Calvin have a good buzz. Fletcher is three drinks in, and Grace and I have been chatting off and on about life, but I’m exhausted. It’s nearing midnight, but knowing these guys, they could be out till bar close and not be tired.
Fletcher wraps his arm around my shoulder, leaning in close. “Lydi-bug, you okay?” His eyes are hazy, and his breath smells of beer.
“I’m good. Are you having fun?”
“Sooo much fun,” he slurs. “I wish you were drinking with me.”
“Next time.” I pat hisfirm chest.
Fletcher rests his forehead on mine. “Wanna dance? Then we can go home.”
“Sure.” I’m not going to say no to going home. We stand, and Calvin glances up at us.
“We’re going to dance, then head out,” I say. “Do you or Grace need a ride?”
Calvin shakes his head. “Nope. Grace is my ride. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”
“You got it.” Fletcher gives him two finger guns, and he gives Grace a high five.
“Okay, big guy,” I say, pulling him from the table, “let's get your dance on.”
“You know…” He hooks his arm with mine.
“What?”
“You know I love you, right?”
We step onto the small dance floor, where a few people are dancing to a slow country song.
“I love you, too,” I say as he spins me into his arms, swaying.
Fletcher groans, and maybe he’s more drunk than I thought. “No, Lydi, like, Iloveyou. You’re my best friend.”
“You’re my best friend, too,” I answer, my heart pounding. “I think you’re a bit drunk.”
I laugh. He’s joking. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.God, he’s so drunk.
Fletcher nods, resting his head on my shoulder. “Yeah. I still love you, though.”
“I still love you, too, Fletch.”
My heart skips a beat. He’s my family, my person. We sway back and forth to the beat of the song. The way he’s holding me sends a flutter through my system. I always feel so safe when I’m with him. No one looks out for me the way he does.
This proximity to him and the way his hands are trailing up and down my back sends a wracking shiver through my body. This feels different than normal, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk. That has to be it.
