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I keep to myself, the silent observer, drinking cran and soda after cran and soda, giving the impression that I’m drinking my face off. Casey stays away from me, but I don’t miss his gaze landing on me every so often. I make kissy lips at him. He scowls.
There’s a lot of dancing, but Casey knows what’s good for him because he doesn’t dance with anyone other than his friends, probably remembering what happened in the yoga studio.
That’s a good little Alderchuck.
Someone slumps beside me, and cotton candy permeates the air. A wave of his energy lights my body aflame, and old things stir to life.
“You’re a dick, Sutter. I came here to get laid, but that’s ruined with you sitting here, looking all Silence of the Lambs.”
His slurred words warm my cold heart. I run my fingers through his messy curls. These are mine. This is mine. He’s mine.
“Mission a-fucking-ccomplished.”
“Then you should have to fuck me.”
“You were pretty adamant that you wanted me to, what was it? Get run over by a Zamboni when you were sober, so too bad for you. You’ll have to try again another time.” Like tomorrow, but I don’t say that. Got to play a little hard to get.
I only partially give a fuck about his sobriety in this case. I know he wants me no matter what he fucking said before, but I won’t have him accusing me of taking advantage of him while he’s drunk.
“So? You’re drunk, too.”
“Nope. Sober as a judge. Cranberry and soda.” I swirl my glass.
He leans against me, closing his eyes. “Yeah, shoulda known you’d do something like that.”
I laugh. “I did it because I knew you were gonna drink your face off like the irresponsible shithead that you are. Someone has to watch over you, and it’s not gonna be your friends—or your brother. They’re all six sheets to the wind.”
“They’re watching me fine,” he says.
“Then you admit you need to be watched.”
“A little. But that’s not the only reason you’re here.”
I cinch his hair by the roots and kiss his forehead. “Not the only reason. I’m also here to keep your ass away from Doug Smith.”
He smirks with his eyes closed. “Knew that would piss you off. As soon as I saw you here, I told him not to come. I didn’t feel like cleaning his blood off the floor.”
“Good boy.”
“Fuck you, Sutter.”
“You’re not even trying, kitten.” He’s my little praise whore. I know he liked that.
“I don’t know how you can be such a possessive asshole. You’re the one who doesn’t want me,” his drunk ass murmurs.
I run fingers over the hickeys my mouth left on his collarbone so deep they haven’t quite disappeared yet. It’s one of my favorite places to leave hickeys on him. Markings, more like. My markings. Bet I’d find my teeth imprints somewhere on him, too, still lingering from our last fuck fest. I wanna tell him what these little skin ornaments are. I wanna remind him that my claim on him is still a claim, however unconventional.
I contemplate kissing him—he’ll get it if I kiss him like I kiss him—but there’s a commotion and a very drunk Logan storms our way, spinning just in time to poke Rhett in the chest. “You’re such a fucking gorilla!”
Rhett puts his arms around Logan who sobs into his chest. I think we’ve reached the time of the night when it’s time to put all the drunken brats to bed.
Logan pushes off him. “Let’s go then.” He pushes his way through the crowd, but it’s slow going for him at his size. Rhett’s got a minute or two. Rhett leans over for a bro hug with a handshake.
“Everything alright?” I ask.
“Too much to drink. I’ll follow him down the road, and then lift him over my shoulder so I can carry him to our ride like my gorilla forefathers intended.” His eyes land on the pile of Casey beside me. “Looks like tonight worked out. Night, brother.”
“Get the fuck out of here, Elkington,” I say, fondly. I shake Casey awake after he’s gone. “C’mon, Alderchuck. Let’s get you home.”
