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“You go.” I try to disentangle myself, but the chick behind me clings to me like a leech. She reeks of alcohol. “Hell.”
“I think you should,” Amber says, her voice flat. “I promise I won’t cry.”
“I don’t know about that. What if you do?” I push the other girl back with one hand and keep her at arm’s length. Unbelievably, she keeps trying to come back. “I bet you’ll miss my good looks and my clever comments.”
“You’re clearly delusional.”
A grin pulls at my lips. “Sex is great at curing delusions, or so I hear.”
She gives an incredulous snort. “Dream on.”
“I swear.”
“If sex could cure you, you’d be cured already.”
Ow.
Score: Amber.
“Never hurts to give it another try,” I say, grinning at her. “Never give up, that’s my motto.”
“You know, I couldn’t care less about your motto.”
I wince. God, what’s this power this chick has to stab me so deep? And why should I care if she thinks badly of me?
“Just… go back to your girl and let her help you out.” She scowls and waves at the blonde, who’s giving us confused looks.
“She’s not my girl.” I shrug with one shoulder. “But if you’re interested, maybe I can convince her to try a threesome.”
Amber’s cheeks color and her eyes flash. Man, she’s gorgeous. “I’m not interested.”
“In threesomes, or in men?” I quip, my mouth on autopilot, like it often gets when I’m agitated. “’Cuz I could watch you get off with blondie here, I wouldn’t mind. Or wait, we could also invite Kayla, your new roommate. She looked interested.”
“Screw you, asshole.” Amber pushes off the wall strides to the open door. “Not interested in you. Stay away from me.”
I laugh, but something painful twists inside my chest. I have no idea what it means, and what to do about it, so I just watch her enter the apartment and vanish in the party crowd.
Fuck. Me.
“Jesse,” the blonde whines, red lipstick smeared all over her face as she pouts at me. “I don’t feel so good. I think I’m gonna puke.”
I let her go as if burned, then grab her again when she sways on her high heels.
Goddammit. My chest still feels too tight, but I ignore it with the ease of long practice and haul the blonde back inside and straight to the bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, a typical party night—and yet something has changed.
I have this feeling I haven’t had in a while—the feeling I don’t know where I’m going and what I’m doing.
I know the cure for it, though. As soon as I make sure the blonde is not in need of a trip to the ER, I’ll grab a bottle of tequila and settle down with a mission to erase all emotion and wipe out all memories.
Sometimes it even works.
***
“Hey, Jesse, whatcha doing?” Rafe lifts his fist, and I bump it with mine—or try to. I manage to miss it. I see double by this point, so it’s no wonder.
“Heya. Wassup?” Damn, my mouth isn’t cooperating. My hands either, I realize, when Rafe easily pulls a glass—empty, I notice—from my lax fingers and sets it on a low table. Has to be low, ’cuz I’m sitting on the floor, my back to the wall, and it’s at eye-level.
Unless I’ve grown bigger. Kinda like the Alice eating that cake in Wonderland. It was in a book I found in one of the foster homes I’d passed through, but then I lost it.
