He gestures his cup towards us, his beer almost tipping over the edge. The change from being around Harry to Grey is so obvious on her face. I remember what she said about being around drunk people and I rub her shoulder and nod at him.
“The one and only,” I say, and he chuckles with a hiccup. Her face turns pink.
“I’m Greyson but you can call me Grey,” he introduces himself.
“Wren,” she says her smile tight.
"Let me get you some water, dude. You're already wasted," I say, trying to find Grey's eyes but he's too busy looking around.
He snorts. "Since when were you such a prude?"
Wren stiffens beside me. "I'm not drinking tonight and if you don't want to be benched at the next game, I suggest you get a drink of water."
"Fine,dad," Grey mumbles. Wren laughs now. Finally.
I look down at her with adoration, watching her face transform into sunlight as she laughs at my expense. He mumbles something that neither one of us can fully understand. It’s weird being sober around drunk people. I don’t blame Wren that she doesn’t like this feeling very much. She brings her hand across my stomach, nestling into my chest as if we aren’t close enough already. The gesture makes my heart constrict when it shouldn’t. This is just pretend.
“Well, it was nice to finally meet you, Wren,” Grey mumbles when he senses that we want to be left alone. He gives me a messy wink before sauntering off. She bursts out laughing, pulling away from me quickly. Suddenly my whole-body aches for her to be touching me again. Even if it’s only lightly. She stands across from me, leaning against the wall.
“Finally, huh?” she says when her laughter dies down. “Do you talk about me to your friends, Miles?”
I shake my head with a laugh. I inch closer to her. “Yes, I do. All the time.”
“Really?” she asks, almost sarcastically. I nod my head. “And what do you say?”
“All good things,” I say, resting my hands on her hips. She doesn’t move or pull away from me. She slowly releases the tension in her body and dissolves in my hands. This is our first public appearance and I’m already getting lost between what’s real and what’s fake but something about the LED lights is making me hornier than I should. My fingers tug at her jumper, my thumbs barley grazing the skin under her shirt as I lean my face towards her ear. “Let’s go to the pool.”
Her breath catches before I feel her hands cover mine, slowly guiding my hand from out of her shirt.
“Okay,” she rasps in my ear. “You can go in. And I’ll watch. Then, I'll drive you to the hospital when you get a disease from whatever is in there.”
She tears away from me and starts to walk in the other direction. I drag my hands down my face before catching up with her. When I get to her, I pull her hand into me as we stand, waiting for the people in front of us to move. She leans back into me, her ass melting into me. Too close.
“I was trying to do something cool just then, but I don’tactuallyknow where I’m going,” she shouts over the music. A wide grin splits on my face. I place my hands on her shoulders and turn us around and walk towards the pool. In the right direction.
The pool is just as disappointing as Wren made out to be.
Each inch of the rectangular pool is filled with semi-naked bodies, beer cans floating, and beach balls being thrown across it. The water has turned a strange brown colour and I don’t want to find out why. We stand next to a wall close to the glass door, our hands unlinked but our shoulders touching.
It’s a strange kind of intimacy that I didn’t realise I enjoyed so much before tonight. She bumps her arm against mine.
“And you wonder why I don’t like parties,” she says, looking up at me with her green-brown eyes. I lean my head against door, laughing. I really do get it.
“Yeah, it’s not as fun as I remember. But I guess I found them more fun when Icouldn’tremember them,” I say. She frowns, her mouth twitching.
“How’s that going? The sobriety.” she draws out, not fully meeting my eyes. She kicks the stones on the path, her hands behind her back.
“Better. I think. I know I’ll never fully be sober, but I have cut down a lot. I remember what happens nowadays and I’m not missing out vital memories,” I admit with a sarcastic flare.
It has been hard getting back on track. I always knew the ‘one drink’ rule would fall through sooner or later. I trust myself enough to have a few beers but never anything stronger. When I’m around her, I want to be able to remember what happens. I don’t want to drown out the feelings because I want her to know me. The real me.
“That’s good,” she says, almost too quietly. We settle into a rhythm of comfortable silence as'Glitter'by BENEE blasts out on the speakers, instantly reminding me of a scene from a movie except, we're not screaming and shouting and running around. Instead, we're lingering around like middle schoolers, watching the party in front of us, too afraid and uninterested to join in.
Her right footsteps between my left one, her back still against the wall. She puts her foot back where it was. I do the same until were in a competitive game of footsie.
"What are you doing?" I ask, laughing.
"Trying to win, duh," she replies and carries on nudging my foot. "This is a lot more fun than the party."
