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"No, you have bony shoulders."
"I mean, in general. Are you feeling better about everything?"
I nodded.
"Good."
He smiled at me, and he was so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.
His hand moved up, and he touched my cheek, thumb caressing it.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" he said.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Really drunk?"
"I'm sleeping on your lap."
He chuckled.
"Why? Are you worried I'll puke on you?"
"Um, no."
"Good, because I never puke."
He laughed, his gaze dropping from mine. "Okay, I get it."
"Get what?"
"You're drunk."
"Um, yeah. We established that."
"I'm drunk, too."
"Okay." I paused. "Is this conversation going somewhere?"
"Apparently not. We're both drunk so . . . Nope, it's not going anywhere."
He swept my hair off my shoulder, hesitated, then shook his head, faced forward, and tugged me tighter against him. I laid my head back on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.
thirty-four
I woke up with my butt vibrating. I'd probably have ignored it, except that for a moment, I thought Adam was rubbing my ass, which was enough to wake me up . . . only to realize it was my phone.
I slid from his lap and snuck out of the lounge. The number showed a pay phone from an area code I didn't recognize. My sleepy brain tried to remember where Elena and Clay were, but there was no reason for them to call me in the middle of the night. It must be a contact of mine--Paige had gotten my old cell number transferred to my new phone.
I answered with a wary "Hello?"
"Savannah?" Male voice. No one I recognized.
"Yes."
"It's me." A faint cough, muffled, like he'd covered his mouth. The voice was strained and raspy. "Bryce." Then as if that might not be enough, "Bryce Nast. Your, uh, brother."
My hand tightened around the phone. "Bryce? Where are you? What--?"
