He’s beautiful, and it’s probably not smart, but I follow him down the steps and onto the path that winds around the campus.
Prologue
We walk for so long that eventually it gets dark. At first, we don’t say much—small talk about the event, a little more of me trying to find out whose sibling he is, with no luck—as we pass the bottle back and forth between us.
The more we drink, the more we talk; well, the more I talk. He seems to have a much better tolerance than I do, which is understandable considering mine is zero.
We’d looped the trail a few times before I lost count, and this time, when we reach the gazebo with the cute fairy lights and benches, his long fingers wrap around my wrist, and he pulls me inside.
My cheeks heat, but I follow him without complaint. I’m pretty sure he could lead me off a cliff, and I’d follow him right now with the way I’m feeling, and it has nothing to do with the buzz I’m feeling.
When was the last time someone spent time like this with me? Cared to ask if I was okay or didn’t look at me with disgust for my academic achievements?
Most people think I’m a stuck-up bitch, and I try not to be, but honestly, I just don’t have any idea how to act around people.
If I’m too quiet, they hate me, and if I say too much, they hate me. I’ve come to just accept that I’ll always just be Jordan’s shadow.
“Hey,” D’s voice startles me, and I look up to find him so close that I have to crane my neck up to meet his eyes. Usually, that wouldn’t be an issue, but apparently, a side effect of drinking is poor balance, and I sway back.
Shit.
I stumble back a step, but before I can make a fool of myself and land on my ass, D pulls me into him, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist.
“Whoa, I didn’t realize you were a lightweight, Blondie,” he says with a chuckle that makes me purse my lips.
He’s laughing at me.
I attempt to pull away, but he only holds tighter, pulling me all the way into his chest, and I feel the rumble from his laughter now.
“Hey, none of that. We’re having a good time. Friends can laugh at each other.”
Can they?
We stand like that for a few seconds longer because I’m not sure what else to do and because he smells fantastic.
He pulls back, his finger hooking beneath my chin to tilt my head back so that our eyes meet once again.
“I’ve never drank before,” I blurt out in explanation and watch his eyes widen a bit before the most adorable smile turns his lips.
My heart rate doubles, and again I feel my cheeks heat as I blush.
Why did I say that?
This is from the alcohol, right?
I’ve never been the type to be a blushing, blubbering pick-me girl, so it has to be. Most of the time, I’m not any more interested in the assholes than they are in me.
“Gods, I’m an idiot. Of course, you haven’t. You're a good kid.”
“Are you not a good kid?” I ask before I can stop to think about what I’m really asking. The second the words are out of my mouth, I cringe. He’s a lot of things, I’m sure, but a kid isn't one of them.
Not to mention how rude that sounded. The smile slips off his face, and I know I’ve fucked up.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. It just slipped out.” I twist my arm in his hold so that I can grab his wrist as well, worried he might bolt now that I’ve put my foot in my mouth.
Although maybe that would be for the best.
He doesn’t, though, and I can’t help but feel relieved when instead he pulls me over to one of the benches to sit down beside him.
