“That’s fine.” Hazen leans closer so he’s right up in my personal space, and his face is nearly touching mine. “You don’t need to tell us. I can figure it out by following your line of sight.”
“Are you done?” I ask, holding still so he can finish whatever the fuck he’s doing. I’m used to his antics, and it’s best to just roll with things rather than fight it when either of the twins goes off the rails or lets their impulsive thoughts win.
“Almost.” His voice is pinched like he’s concentrating really hard. “Got it.” He pats my cheek and gives me a little hip check, knocking me sideways. “Dude. Personal space.”
Rath sidesteps me so I don’t knock into him as I stumble, and I manage to right myself without spilling my beer. “You’re lucky you didn’t make me spill,” I tell Hazen, then take a sip of my drink. “And?” I ask when he just gives me a big, cheesy grin.
“It’s either Rosemary or West.” He looks between me and where West and Rosemary are talking in the corner of the room.
“You think?” I ask.
“One hundred percent.” He glances at Rath. “Who’s your vote?”
“Neither.”
“That’s not a choice. West or Rosemary.”
“West.”
“Interesting.” He flicks his gaze to Connor. “Bro?”
“Same. Definitely West,” Connor says, being even more obvious than Hazen as he also looks between me and where West and Rosemary are standing.
“I have to concur.” Hazen bumps his arm against mine. “What’s the verdict?”
“Guilty.”
“Told ya I didn’t need you to tell us.” He tips his beer at me. “Now, care to tell uswhyyou’ve been eye-fucking him all night?”
I tip my beer back at him. “Nope.”
“He doesn’t need to tell us that either,” Rath says dryly. “He’s been doing it for three years.”
“No, this is different.” Connor’s gaze is shrewd as he assesses me.
“You’re seeing things,” I tell them.
They’re not wrong. I have been staring at West for the past hour; it’s just more fun to deny it.
“Sure we are.” Rath says in a placating tone. “You just keep believing that.”
“Someone should probably tell your boy it’s Tuesday,” Hazen comments. “How many has he had?”
I swing my gaze back to West. “Five,” I say and take another sip of my beer. “Why do you think I’ve been watching him?”
That’s not the entire truth, but it’s not a lie either.
I started watching West because I was curious how he was doing after I sent him the video last night. He seemed fine and was joking around and being the life of the party like usual when I got here, then he started drinking.
The first beer went down in less than five minutes, and he downed the second in twenty. Number three lasted about ten, and if my counting is accurate, he’s almost done with drink number five.
West is a big guy, and he can drink with the best of them, but five beers in just under an hour is a lot for a weekday, and a pretty good sign that he’s not okay.
“He’ll be fine,” I say as Damon walks into the room, his head on a swivel as he looks around.
He quickly spots West and strides over to him.
“Oof, someone tattled,” Connor says as Damon goes right up to West and gives him a look that clearly says “What the fuck?”
