I do know, but I like fucking with her. “Do you just like saying words twice?”
She mutters something before pinching the bridge of her nose, and I smother the laugh that would probably get me kneed in the balls at this particular moment.
“To be fair, I was just talking shit. Never really thought you’d do public bathroom sex, but now that I know you will—”
“I am not going back in there,” she says loudly, pointing at the door for emphasis, as if she thinks I’ve forgotten where it is.
“Why? Because you sang while we were pissing, or because you shook an imaginary dick?” I muse.
She shoves at my chest and starts to walk off, but I snatch one of her hands and pull her back before kissing her, slowly moving her against the wall. She only resists me for a second, and then she melts against me like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.
“We’ll do bathroom sex tomorrow at my house,” I say against her lips, smiling when she groans.
“At least it won’t be public,” she grumbles, trying to play it off, even though I know she’s still embarrassed.
“Technically, it will be. My party is tomorrow, and you’re coming.”
This time when she groans, I kiss her anyway, because I can’t get enough. She doesn’t stop me either. I’m actually looking forward to seeing how much fun my two favorite things can be when put together—wild party and Bella. Should be exhausting when Bella gets as wild as the party.
I can’t wait.
Chapter 45
BELLA
Ethan is playing beer pong with a group of guys who are barely legal to drink. I don’t even think he knows their names, but he seems to be having the time of his life.
Me? Not so much.
There’s vomit on my shoes from some random chick who was screaming, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” She threw up something that looked nothing like chicken. It did, however, resemble decaying guacamole. Guess I was her winner.
Disgusting.
My ass has been grabbed more times than I can count, and the perverts doing the grabbing run off and bump fists with other guys who congratulate them like they’ve truly accomplished something. If my breasts “accidentally” get brushed one more time, I might stab someone in the eye with a pen, and call that an accident too.
I haven’t had a drop to drink, and that might be the problem. But I also don’t know any of these people, so I don’t trust them to be around me when I’m drunk. Yeah, I’m incredibly rational and think of things like that these days.
I had no idea how much adulting I do until this moment.
A guy in front of me stumbles, and a gasp leaves my lips when half his beer sloshes up and spills all over my shirt.
“Sorry, but hey! Let’s do a wet t-shirt contest!” he hoots, punching a fist in the air like he’s a motherfucking genius.
Cracking my neck to the side, I walk toward Ethan as he chugs down another beer—and they’re actually chanting chug, chug, chug, too.
Whoops and whistles sound out, and Ethan raises two fists in the air like he’s a gold medal winner or something as they start chanting his name.
When he
sees me, he gives me a drunken grin, pulling me to him with both hands on my ass. At least I like it when he gropes me, but I’m sick of getting groped by all these assholes. Not that I can tell Ethan that. He’d either end up in a fight, or tell me to get over it. I’m not sure which, to be honest, considering how unpredictable he is.
“Hey, baby,” he says, his eyes glazed over, letting me know how far gone he is.
“You’re drunk,” I point out.
“You’re sober,” he states with disappointment.
“Do you even know any of these people?” I ask, gesturing around the room with one hand.