I giggle into my red Solo cup. My friend Solo doesn’t judge me. She understands. Carter has dark eyes and a damaged soul. I probably won’t be the last smart girl to go dumb for him, especially since he’s getting blow jobs from exes already and we’re barely dating.
I lift my cup and give it a stern look. “Whoa, Solo, way to take it to a depressing place. Let’s take it down a notch.”
Carter leans forward, murmuring in my ear, “Did you just talk to your cup?”
“No?”
Chuckling, he pulls me back against his chest. “You’re drunk.”
“I would never,” I offer with mock outrage.
I should be at home. Or with Grace, assembling baskets for the raffle this weekend. Or doing literally anything other than sitting here with Carter Mahoney in front of a roaring bonfire, consuming alcohol with his jock friends.
I didn’t like the taste of beer, but Carter poured something from a flask into my cup, and it tastes delicious. I thought maybe it was roofie soup and I shouldn’t drink it, but then I remembered Carter has no use for roofie soup because he likes when I fight him.
Kinky bastard.
Why is his brain the way it is?
Why is my cup empty?
I scowl at Solo for letting me down and lean back against Carter’s hard chest. “I’m out.”
“You want more?” he asks.
“Might as well.”
Unexpectedly, Brianna interrupts before he can pour more of whatever he keeps in that flask into my cup. “Why don’t you drink some water? Carter’s flask is deceptive; sometimes you consume a lot more than you realize.”
“Of course she’s also had her lips around your flask,” I mutter. A little louder, I say, “No offense, Brianna. I like you. You’re cool.”
She cracks a smile and pushes up out of her canvas chair. Approaching me, she offers me her hand. “Come on. I have to pee, why don’t you come back to the house with me and we’ll get you some water while we’re there?”
“I will take Zoey back to the house when she’s ready,” Carter states.
“I know,” she says easily. “I’m not tryin’ to steal her from you. I’ll bring her back, I promise.”
I get the feeling she’s trying to save me, and since that means she knows there’s something to save me from, I pull myself through the slog of drunkenness and stumble to my feet. “I’m gonna go with her. I’ll be back.”
Carter’s gaze drops to my hand now in Brianna’s and he cocks an eyebrow at her. “No funny business. That’s mine.”
I snort-laugh, assuming he’s joking. Brianna is a girl, and a girl he has had sexual intimacies with. Real funny, Carter.
“I’ll try to behave myself,” Brianna tells him with a wink, tugging on my hand. “Come on, sweetie.”
It takes forever to get back to the house. When we do, Brianna starts taking care of me like I’m someone who needs taking care of. She gets me some water and opens the fridge to find me a snack. She settles on some strawberries and a hastily made peanut butter sandwich.
“I’m not hungry,” I tell her.
“You need the bread to soak up the alcohol. Are you planning to stay the night, or are you going home?”
“I dunno,” I murmur, grabbing a strawberry and sinking my teeth into it. “Oh, God, so good,” I murmur, taking another bite. Maybe I am hungry. “That’s not how the bread thing works, though,” I add. “If you eat before you go drinking it takes longer to get drunk than you would on an empty stomach, but that’s because the food and alcohol are both competing to be processed, and also the…” I trail off, completely losing my train of thought. “What was I saying?”
Brianna giggles, patting me on the arm as she walks past. “Eat your food, sweetie. I’m gonna go pee.”
While she uses the bathroom, I stand at the counter and devour the food she gave me. I didn’t think I was hungry, but every bite is more magical than the next. I’m just about finished when the sliding door in the kitchen opens and Carter steps inside.
His predatory gaze lands on me immediately. He walks over and stops behind me, securing his arms around my waist and hugging me from behind. “How are you feeling?”
“Super drunk,” I announce. “Brianna made me a sandwich.”
“How wifely of her,” he remarks.
“She’s tryin’ to sober me up.”
“Yes, she is,” he agrees.
“Why do you have an accent?”
Carter pauses. “Excuse me?”
“You live here, but you definitely sound like a Yankee.”
Catching up to my drunk girl stream of thought, he answers, “Ah. I am a Yankee, I suppose. I live here now, but I’m not from Texas originally. This is the state my father does the most business in besides New York, where we lived before, so it made sense to move here when we relocated.”