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"Then what?" Ashton asks.
"Forget it," I tell her, but refuse to turn around. I need to get this under control; it's driving me insane.
"Hi!" I hear from the stairs. We turn to find Stefan walking up to greet us. "So happy you're all here. Help yourself to anything. Play with whatever or whoever you want," he says with a flirty crooked smile, "and just ... be happy." He offers each of us a hug and brief kiss on the cheek. If anyone else were to say or do this, I would think they were a creep. But there's a genuineness to Stefan that keeps it from crossing the awkward line.
"Thank you," Lily says sweetly. "We promise to behave."
"Mostly," Ashton adds with a smirk.
Stefan laughs before finding more faces to greet and bodies to hug.
"Want to go float in the lake?" Ashton offers.
"Yes," Lily responds enthusiastically.
"Um, I'll meet you down there," I say, not ready to get wet just yet.
The girls disappear down the sloping grass toward the water. I take a couple more gulps from my cup, barely tasting the vodka any longer, which isn't the best sign. But maybe it'll help me calm the hell down and act like a normal human being. And that thought lasts as long as it takes Grant to cross the lawn and hop up the steps to greet me. "You made it!"
Damn him and his gorgeous smile.
"Yup," I say, my mouth winning the war with my cheeks and smiling just as big.
"Where's your chaperone?"
"I actually have no idea," I say, looking around for Lance.
"Does that mean you can get in trouble?"
"Is that an offer?" The corner of my mouth raises flirtatiously.
He laughs.
"We were about to start a game of whiffle ball. Wanna play?"
I make a face of dread.
"Have you ever played?"
I shake my head.
"We won't judge. C'mon." He offers his hand and I take it, my chest tightening at his touch. "Do you know the general rules? They're pretty much the same as baseball."
"I think so."
"Then you'll be fine." We walk to the other end of the yard where a guy is laying down rubber bases and a large group of players wait to begin. Grant introduces me by name but leaves the individual introductions up to everyone to do themselves.
Thankfully, I'm on his team, and we're up to bat first. I watch the batters and plays, Grant providing a bit of insight. I've been forced to play softball in gym for what feels like my entire life, so I know the general concept of how to swing the bat, although I find this plastic one extremely light, and the unpredictability of the pitches impossible to hit. I get on base a couple times, earning a trumpet of cheers from my teammates. And I even make it home once when a huge guy on our team slams the ball--it's declared a home run when it makes it past the azalea bush. The rest of our team awaits with high fives as we run across home plate, and Grant wraps his hand around mine when I slap his hand.
"Not bad," he says, pulling me toward him.
"It might be the vodka," I tell him. "Makes me better, just like playing pool. I improve with a buzz."
"Oh," he says in surprise, and maybe a little disappointment. "I didn't realize you were drinking."
"Are you?" I ask, his answer strikes me as odd. I know he does. I saw him with a beer at Lily's.
"I wasn't, but sure, I'll get a beer. Want another drink?"
