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He swallows. “Oh.”
“Did it work?” I beam up at him.
His eyes drag down my body like I wish his hands would. They stay low for a few seconds then they flick back up to mine, pressing his thumb into his mouth.
Yes, is the answer his mouth won’t say.
He breathes out, shoving his hands through his hair. “Parks, how drunk are you?”
“Oh.” I shrug airily. “Like, not very. The good amount. But very not very.” I pause and look at him. “Hey, do you want to have sex later?”
Henry spits out his drink and I turn to look at him, surprised. I didn’t realise he was listening.
“Henry Austin,” I scold. “Pull it together.”
Hen starts laughing and I’d actually forgotten anyone else was in the room. I forgot that we were in a room and not on the secret island BJ and I live on in my imagination where we’re all alone and no outside forces endanger our tenuous, impossible connection.
BJ laughs. “Wow!”
Henry’s still sputtering away in his half-laugh, half-choke.
I frown a little. “What?”
He gives me a crooked smile with tall eyebrows. “I have a girlfriend, remember?”
“Oh—” My shoulders slump. “Right.”
“Right.” He nods.
“But do you really though?” I frown up at him.
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He nods his head at Jordan who is — regrettably — listening rather closely. “That’s her.”
“Oh, hello.” I re-notice her. “Again.”
She stares over at me, unimpressed. You know how when you’re sober and you’re with someone drunk, they’re particularly annoying? I imagine it’s directly like that except for infinity times worse because I’d imagine she’d find me particularly annoying at the best of times.
(“She’s just drunk,” Beej whispers to her. “No shit.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s not the problem.” BJ crosses his arms over his chest. “What is the problem?” Jordan stares at him like he’s an idiot, then waves her hand in my direction. “She wants you.” But BJ shakes his head. “Not really, though,” he tells her. And I don’t know whether he knows how untrue that really is.)
“I like your dress,” I tell her to throw her off my scent.
“I’m wearing jeans,” she tells me, unimpressed.
“Oh.” I cringe. “Great jeans.”
(“Doesn’t she know denim is the working man’s material though?” I whisper (unintentionally) too loudly to Henry, who gives me a long-suffering look.)
Jordan rolls her eyes at me and walks away. BJ gives me an exasperated look and goes after her. I frown, hating that I have to watch him go after anyone but me. It’s just me. It should be anyway. I plonk down on to the couch. Pour myself a vodka and vodka.
“You good?” Henry nods at my glass.
“Hm?” I stare at him a bit blankly. “Oh, this? No, yeah — I’m great.”
“Yeah?”
