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The Four Drunk Stages of Jane Eleanor Cobalt are as follows:
Feel-Good Drunk Jane
Flirty Drunk Jane
Sloppy Drunk Jane
Black-Out (SOS) Jane
My sloppy-drunk-self can’t come out. I haven’t reached Flirty Drunk Jane yet. Skipping from one to three is like sipping the milk froth of a cappuccino and dumping out the coffee.
The actual coffee is undoubtedly the best part.
“Is it weird that we both kissed brothers?” Sulli asks me.
I’m about to mention how Uncle Loren and Uncle Ryke are brothers and their wives are sisters, but Luna already sing-songs to Sulli, “Our moms married brothers.”
“Fuck, duh.” Sulli shakes her head and swallows more beer.
I pet her long brown hair. “She’s lovesick; she’s not thinking straight.”
“She’s infected.” Luna sticks out her tongue, neon-green piercing in the center. “Should we amputate?”
Sulli elbows us with a giddy smile. “I seriously think I could lose my virginity to him.”
My eyes brighten. “In Scotland.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs, unable to stop smiling. “Maybe. I’m comfortable with him.” Her smile gradually fades at another thought.
“Uh-oh,” Luna says. “She’s losing the love vibe.”
I sip my whiskey, my lips down-turning too. I wonder if it’s possible to make yourself fall out of love with someone, as a precautionary measure. Like a button you can press to evacuate in case love goes too far, and I find myself sweeping the pub for him.
Tony, O’Malley, and Will have staked claim to the bar, but I easily spot my towering boyfriend. He stands near the sofa where SFO has congregated.
His eyes are already on me.
My body floods, and I lift my whiskey to him, a polite gesture. One that I could make to Banks without any romantic inclination.
Thatcher raises his glass of water back in response.
My stomach flutters.
“I guess it puts me on edge that all the guys don’t like Will,” Sulli confesses. “I can’t tell if they’re just being overprotective or if they know something about him that I don’t.”
“If Beckett or Moffy knew something bad about Will, they’d tell you,” I say to Sulli. “Just trust your judgment. You have good intuition.” She’s not naïve, and she’s cautious when confronted with real life dangers.
She nods. “You’re the best, Jane.” Sulli hugs me, and we bring in Luna for a three-way hug.
We all sway, laughing, and I try not to spill my drink on my cousins. When we part, Moffy slips into our huddle with a mug of tea. He doesn’t ask for a recap, but we all quickly provide one.
“Just be careful,” Maximoff tells her.
“You know I will be,” Sulli nods into a smile. “He’s sexy, right?”
Maximoff glances over at the bar and checks out Will, who resembles a preppy Ken Doll. “Yeah, he’s pretty hot.”
“Who’s hot?” Farrow slides in, very casual and cool as he chews gum. He gives Moffy a once-over.
“Me,” Maximoff quips, stretching his arm across Farrow’s shoulders.
Farrow rolls his eyes. “You’re definitely cocky.” He has trouble taking his gaze off his fiancé. “I didn’t come over here for you, smartass.”
“But you’re staying here for me,” Maximoff rebuts.
Luna looks between them with such happiness.
Farrow sucks in a breath. “Technically, you can’t read the future to know if I’m staying.” And then he looks to me. “I don’t love being the errand boy, but Omega wants me to tell you to stop giving your boyfriend ‘googly eyes’.” He uses air-quotes.
I bristle. “I haven’t been giving him googly anything. He’s been giving me some sort of eyes.” I sip my whiskey, burning up from the alcohol and other carnal things. I brave a glance at Thatcher.
He’s now seated on the sofa with quiet confidence that hooks me tenfold. I could so easily walk over to him.
Kiss him.
Straddle him.
“Janie.” Moffy draws my attention back.
Farrow raises his brows at me. “You were saying?”
“Merde,” I curse. I’m making googly eyes.
“Is Flirty Drunk Jane here?” Moffy asks me.
“Almost,” I warn and pinch my fingers together.
He laughs, but concern also rests behind his forest-green eyes. He’s been watching over my brothers tonight since I’ve been drinking, and I can’t thank him enough for keeping an eye on Charlie and Beckett.
I notice how Sulli and Luna share a growing smile, and Sulli motions to Farrow. “Hey, is there a way to ask Tony to GTFO so he won’t follow Jane and Thatcher outside?”
Luna rocks on her feet. “So she can make out with her boyfriend.”
I love them.
Farrow pops a bubblegum bubble in his mouth. “You’re asking the wrong bodyguard. You need to talk to the one in charge.”
Sulli whips around. “Kits, can you come here for a sec?”
Akara stands off the sofa and pushes back his black hair as he nears his client.
Moffy takes his arm off Farrow and dances with his sister. Luna and Maximoff do the running man
move together, and then he twirls her in a circle.
I sway to the beat, and I notice how Farrow looks absolutely and without a shadow of a doubt in love with his future husband. I’ve been a spectator to their love for so long, and now that mine is in reach, I’m scared to embrace every little part until it consumes me.
Being a voyeur to love is easier than being in love, I think.
We all look up as multi-colored Christmas lights switch on, brightening the pub in an array of colors. My head keeps whirling, and whiskey scalds my esophagus, a good sting.
“I can try to shift Tony to Moffy’s detail, but I can’t promise he’ll respond, Sul,” Akara tells her. “Jane is his client. He’s allowed to protect her first.”
“Fuck,” Sulli curses in a sigh. “Thanks anyway.” She slugs his shoulder.
He just nods.
Strange. I squint at their interaction and taste more whiskey. Usually Akara would fling a strand of hair in her face or slug her back just as playfully.
Sullivan puts two fingers to her lips. “What’s wrong?”
Farrow, Moffy, and Luna watch too.
“I’m just doing my job.” Akara fixes his earpiece. “Is that it?”
Her squared jaw tenses. “Yeah…”
Akara nods, then he returns to the couch beside Quinn.
“What the fuck was that?” Sulli whispers to me, but she’s already distracted. Will is waving her over to the bar, and a smile spreads across her face.
“Go get him, tiger.” I cheer her on.
Sulli strides over to her boyfriend, and I cement to this very spot. Hardly budging. Smart, Jane. You know if you go great and terrible distances, you will face-plant.
Different people approach me at different intervals.
“Do you have dirt on Will?” I ask outright to Charlie and Beckett, Moffy and Farrow also in our new fireside chat. Luna dances by herself in the corner of the pub.
“No.” Charlie tugs at his hair, possibly irritated that I’m even asking the important questions that he believes are obvious.
Feel-Good Drunk Jane doesn’t care if they’re obvious or not.
Beckett lights a cigarette between his lips. “Are we just going to forget his younger brother is a dick?”
