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“Just tired,” he says, lolling his head over to look at me.
The strong smell of liquor hits me and look around the cab of the truck, almost expecting to see empty bottles everywhere, but it’s clean as always. “What’s that smell?”
He shakes his head. “I dunno? You ready to go?”
His glassy eyes tell me everything I need to know. “Lincoln, are you drunk right now?”
“Nah, I’m good. Just tired.”
“But have you been drinking?”
He nods and gives me this grin that’s a little more evil than innocent. “I had a few drinks before I left. Just some party pre-loading.”
“Pre-loading?”
“Yeah, like in dirt bike video games. You gotta pre-load. Now I’ll be ready to party the second I get there. You, however,” he says, pointing a wavering finger at me, “will have to drink hard and fast to catch up with me.”
He winks and I throw my door back open. “I’m driving.”
“Aww, come on,” he slurs. “I’m f
ine to drive. I made it over here, didn’t I?”
I shake my head. “Switch me seats or I’m going back inside.”
“Nooooo, you can’t do that,” he says, sounding genuinely worried that I might leave. “I want to spend all my time with you.”
I climb out of his truck and walk over to the other side. He opens the door and stumbles out, handing me the keys. “Fine, but I’m only agreeing because you look so pretty tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s the alcohol talking.”
“Nope, it’s the truth.” His hand touches my cheek, and he leans down until our foreheads touch. “You’re the prettiest girl I know.”
“You should tell me these things when you’re sober.”
His bottom lip pokes out and his fingers slide down my cheek. “I will.”
*
The party is in full swing when we arrive. There are so many people mulling around Mike’s parent’s house that no one notices we’re the new additions to the crowd. Fine by me. I don’t know most of the people here, Mixon High School students and alumni mostly, with some local motocross racers thrown in. Lincoln leads me to the kitchen where I am handed a cold beer can from a cooler and asked if I want to play beer pong.
“No thanks,” I say, cracking open the top even though I’m not in the mood to drink. But I’m also not about to be the only person here without an illegal accessory in my hand. Something tells me I’ll need to babysit my date tonight since he’s already chugged two beers in the time it takes me to open my one beer without breaking a nail.
I grab Lincoln’s elbow and lead him into an alcove that’s not filled with rowdy people dancing, playing drinking games, or making out. “This is a new side of you,” I say, trying really hard to get back that spark of flirty friendship we usually have.
Lincoln is wearing jeans and a hoodie over a grey shirt, his black hair messy on top of his head. His eyes are unfocused and glassy, but he finds a way to look at me. “Do you like this side of me?”
“Honestly—” I begin, but someone slams into me on a drunken run through the dining room, and I stumble into the wall.
“What the hell, man?” Lincoln says, rushing forward and shoving the guy in the chest. “Apologize to my girl!”
The guy looks around as if dazed, then finds me and lifts his beer bottle to his temple, saluting me with it. “Sorry!”
He disappears and Lincoln grabs my arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah. It was nothing,” I say as I stare at the drawstrings on his hoodie. Since when did I become his girl? Is this a thing now? Don’t I get a say in the matter? I want to ask him all of these things, but he’s slurring his words and wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to him, and it just doesn’t seem like the right time. I don’t think he will remember any of this in the morning.
“Lincoln,” I say, pressing my hands to his chest.
