Page 65 of Don't Think

We can talk if you want. I’m so sorry about last night…

My brow furrows while I stare at the message.

Sorry for what?

Allison

I mean, I don’t remember much but I remember basically trying to jump your bones lol

Do you not remember me also saying I didn’t want to take advantage of a drunk woman?

Allison

…no, I don’t recall that part.

I let out a quiet laugh, wiping my mouth with my hand, eyes still locked on the screen.

Suddenly, a beer bottle crashes to the floor, sending my heart into my throat. I look up just in time to see Casey practically tackling James, trying to put him in a headlock.

“Hey! Knock it off, you two,” Don calls out from the doorway, his arms crossed.

“Fucking take it back!” Casey yells.

James is cracking up. “It’s not my fault, bro! Don’t make eye contact with me when you sip your beer like that!”

Casey punches him in the arm. Loud enough to echo across the kitchen.

God. It’s like living with a bunch of pre-schoolers.

Gareth heads over, and for a second, I think he’s going to break it up—but nope. He grabs James from behind, locking his arms back while Casey rushes to scoop a spoonful of guacamole off the counter.

James freezes. “No, no—don’t you fucking dare,” he warns, still laughing.

Casey moves on to grab a bottle of hot sauce from the fridge, dumps a generous glob onto the spoon, and stalks toward James like a predator.

It’s way too fucking loud in here, and my anxiety is already soaring through the goddamn roof. I glance down at Allie’s message and quickly type out:

Do you maybe want to meet up so we can talk in person?

She doesn’t respond right away. Long enough for Casey to jam the spoon into James’s mouth and for him to start screaming bloody murder.

Pre-school.

Allison

Sure.I’ll tell the girls I want to go out alone for a bit. Where should I meet you?

I shoot back the hotel address, asking her to meet me downstairs at the bar, and jam my phone into my pocket. Without saying a word, I grab the keycard from the wall and head straight for the door.

“Where you headed?” Don asks, eyeing me over the rim of his glasses.

“For a walk,” I answer nonchalantly.

He raises a brow like he’s debating whether or not to call bullshit.

I grin. “Come on, it’s me. You know you can trust me.”

He huffs out a laugh and nods slowly. “Yeah. Just don’t make me regret it,” he says. “And don’t make my job harder,” he adds, tilting his head toward the chaos behind me, where the guys are now trying to stuff something else in James’s mouth.