Chapter 15
One beer, two beer, three beer, four. Then I hit the floor.
“Hold me close, young Tony Danza,” I sing as Grayson helps me up the sidewalk to my house. When I’m sober, I think I can’t carry a tune. When I’ve had a few beers, though, I realize I’ve got it all wrong. I can totally carry a tune.
“Hold me close, young Tony Danza.” I may be able to carry a tune when I’m drunk but remember the lyrics to songs? Nah. But I’m nailing the chorus.
“Those are not the words to the song,” Grayson grumps.
“Dude! They are! I heard it on Friends.” And everyone knows if it was on Friends, it’s true.
“Why is the song called Tiny Dancer if he’s singing about Tony Danza?”
“Your question is irrelevant! Stop being a stick in the mud.” I try to slap his chest, but I miss his body completely and stumble forward nearly ending up ass over teakettle on my front lawn.
“Whoa.” Grayson grabs hold of my belt and yanks me up before I face plant. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
I shiver. In bed with Grayson? Yes, please! I may be tipsy, but I know better than to say those words out loud. “I don’t need your help,” I complain instead.
This is all Grayson’s fault! Stupid man and his stupid drinking game. Sure, I said. I can slam a beer after every turn. Big mistake. Five – or was it six? – beers later and I suddenly found I couldn’t see straight. At which point, Ryker took the darts away from me, Aiden stole my car keys, and Grayson escorted me to his truck.
Phoebe and Hailey, the twin troublemakers, cheered as I was dragged out of the bar by Grayson. I need to up my game. Making Leroy pee on the corner of Phoebe’s desk is no longer sufficient. Those girls need to pay!
I search my bag for my keys as Grayson drags me by my belt up the sidewalk to my front door. “Aha!” I shout when I find them. I lift my hand in the air to celebrate and promptly hit Grayson in the chest. “Oops!”
I try to fit the key in the lock, but the lock keeps moving. I stab at it, but it darts left and right avoiding the key. Stupid floating lock.
Grayson holds out his hand. “Give me the key before you punch a hole in the glass.”
“Whatever.” I hand him the key. He lets go of my belt and I start sliding to the ground. This looks like a good place to sleep. It’s not even cold out. “Why isn’t it cold out?”
“Because your blood is currently ninety-nine percent alcohol,” Grayson mumbles as he sticks the key in the lock and opens the door.
I ignore Mr. Grumpypants. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” I point to the stars.
“Those aren’t stars. They’re the streetlights.”
I squint my eyes, but I distinctly see stars. “I don’t care. It’s beautiful.”
“You’re drunk,” he claims as he lifts me up from where I’m sitting on the porch leaning against my house. Huh. How did I get down there?
“Nah. I’m a little tipsy is all.”
He chuckles. “Sure, that’s why you declared yourself the queen of darts and demanded I crown you.”
I don’t remember saying anything of the sort, but it sounds like something I would say. I pat my head but there’s no crown up there. “Obviously, you failed.”
“I did offer to hit up Burger King and get you a crown, but you wanted Taco Bell.”
“Duh. Everyone knows you eat tacos after a night of drinking. I’m starting to think you’ve led a very sheltered life.”
“Which room is your bedroom?”
I look around. We’re in my upstairs hallway. “How did we get upstairs?”
“Never mind,” he grumbles. “I’ll find it.”
I bounce as he carries me down the hall. When did he pick me up? “Why are you carrying me? Let me down.”