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God, I wish I was strong enough to give that to him.
“Excited about tonight?”
I snap my head toward Silas, pulling my attention from the empty spot Rick was standing in. I smile at my friend, wondering how long I’ve just been staring across the room like an idiot.
“What’s that?”
“Right,” Silas says with a chuckle as he slaps me on my shoulder.
I frown at him, brows drawn together in confusion,
“You’re serious? Tonight? Your fucking birthday party?”
“Oh yeah. That.”
He shakes he head as if he can’t believe his ears.
“You get to drink legally for the first time, and you’re just so blasé about it.”
“I don’t turn twenty-one until Tuesday,” I remind him. “So I wouldn’t be drinking legally tonight.”
“Still going to be a good time,” he says. “Jason said he’s actually swinging for a DJ tonight.”
“Can’t wait,” I say with more enthusiasm.
It’s not Silas’s fault I’m stuck in my fucking head over Rick.
***
“This party is fucking awesome!” Silas yells over the music, his eyes glued to a girl’s ass as he watches her walk through the throng of people milling around.
The party is great.
I’ve had to say that over and over in my head for the last hour because what the party actually is, is crowded, loud and hot as fuck.
Hot in a gross way. The only thing making my night tolerable is the man across from me that’s grinning as Jericho tells a story about his girlfriend.
Several teammates are gathered in a small group just outside the kitchen. We’ve been chatting and shooting the shit for the last half hour, and I’m counting down the seconds until I can make my excuses and disappear.
I’d never risk the chance of getting caught in a compromising position with Rick at a party, so heading upstairs for a few minutes to relieve some of the tension in my shorts isn’t an option. I’m waiting for him to make his excuses before attempting to disappear myself.
“What the fuck is that?” Silas asks, his attention now on me since the girl disappeared into the crowd.
“A beer,” I mutter.
“You hate beer,” he says, shoving a full shot glass into my free hand. “Take this.”
I don’t argue, but I look up at Rick as I speak. “The taste is growing on me. It’s the aftertaste I’m looking forward to.”
Rick looks away, but I can see the sparkle in his eyes as he does.
He confessed to me that he’s a little obsessed with the taste of beer on my tongue despite hardly ever drinking it himself.
“Drink,” Silas says, nudging the bottom of the shot glass toward my lips.
I oblige because declining would draw more red flags than just drinking it.
I have to wonder how many beers I’ve drunk for the liquor not to burn my throat as I swallow, and I chuckle when Silas immediately begins to pour a refill.
Rick cocks an eyebrow at me, humor in his eyes as I throw back the second shot.
He knows I want him. I may not have been capable of asking for what I really want, but I don’t hold back when we’re in our room alone. Most days it’s a battle of who can get things started the quickest.
I wonder if he’d be just lazily hanging out right now if he knew I made the decision earlier to go that next step with him tonight.
I watch as he takes a sip of his soda, desperate to taste his tongue as it sneaks out, catching a rogue drop there on his mouth.
“Bottoms up,” Silas says, drawing my attention back to him.
“I’ve had enough,” I say, looking down at my refilled shot glass.
“Not even close,” he argues, tilting his own shot glass up to his lips.
I take the third shot, setting the empty glass on a side table to prevent my friend from filling it up a fourth time.
Rick continues to watch me, and his eyes feel like a brand on my skin as warmth from the alcohol spreads through my body.
“Oh. There she is again. Excuse me, gentlemen. Come on, Jones. I might need a wingman. She showed up with a friend earlier.” Silas grabs our teammate by the arm, dragging him away to chase after the girl he was watching earlier.
It leaves Rick and me standing there alone, and he doesn’t waste a second, stepping up beside me so we’re both looking in the same direction.
The party is in full swing, the majority of people shaking their asses, and waving their arms to the music coming from the DJ in the center of the living room.
A sense of privacy circles around us, but I make sure no one is within earshot when I begin to speak.
“Having a good time?” I ask Rick, my eyes locked straight ahead.
With the alcohol now swimming in my gut, I’m cognizant enough to know I won’t have the ability to not watch his mouth if he speaks. It’s safer this way.
