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“Aw, Gibs,” she coaxed, nudging my arm with her elbow. “Surely things aren’t that bad?”
Gibs?
So she knew me.
Trying my best to blink away my drunken stupor, I stared at the woman.
“I have to say, you make a sexy Zuko, but you’d make an even sexier Batman.”
Okay, now I was sure I knew her. Her lips were big and pouty, and I had seen them form the perfect O on more than one occasion. “Dee?”
Her smile deepened. “You really didn’t recognize me?”
“No,” I slurred, shaking my head. “I really didn’t.”
“I guess that’s a good thing for us, hmm?” She shifted closer and sat on my lap. “No one will know it’s us.”
“Us?” I blinked away the bleariness. “There is no us.”
“We’ll see,” she purred. “So, why aren’t you at the party?”
“Party?”
“Yeah, Hugh’s party.” She rested her hand on my thigh. “It’s happening tonight, right?”
The fact that she knew so much about my social life should have troubled me. Instead, it went clean over my head because I was too fucking wasted to give it a second thought.
When her hand moved too far north for my liking, I shook my head in protest. “Would you mind taking your hand off her dick, please?”
“Her dick?” Dee blinked in confusion. “Don’t you mean your dick?” She full on palmed me before leaning in close and purring, “It doesn’t feel like you want me to take my hand off.”
“No, I meant her dick,” I clarified, brushing her hand off my crotch and shifting sideways so that her ass was back on the bench and not on my lap.
“Her?”
“Claire,” I slurred before pointing to my dick. “And don’t get flattered by that reckless bastard because he’s as blind as a bat and can’t see whose hand is touching him.” I slapped a hand against my chest before saying, “But he can.”
“So, that’s it?” Her tone switched from flirtatious to accusatory in an instant. “You’re just saying no?”
“Yes, Dee, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Reaching for my pint, I slid it toward her. “But here’s a pint for your troubles.”
_______________
“Gerard!” Claire whisper-hissed in the early hours of the morning when I collapsed in a heap on her bed, after tripping over several sleeping kittens littered around her bedroom floor. “You’re back.”
“I’m back,” I confirmed, whipping off my T-shirt and tossing it over the side of the bed.
“Where’d you go?”
“For a walk.”
“Where?” she demanded, sitting up. “Patrick and I looked everywhere for you.”
“I’m back now.”
“But where did you go?”
“Biddies.”
