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He keeps doing that, like he knows a secret about me, and it’s making me kind of uneasy. He’s Zayden’s brother, so maybe he does know something about me.
“I’ve never played before, so maybe you should play with someone else?” I whisper to Hunter, my body turned in toward him
He lets out a shaky breath then slips his arm around me and pulls me so close to him that our chests touch. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to play.”
We’re standing in such an intimate position, and it’s kind of weird but strangely familiar.
“Are you sure? You might lose,” I point out, resting my hands against his chest.
I can feel his heartbeat fiercely.
Why is it beating so fast?
He drags his teeth along his bottom lip. “I don’t care. I want to teach you.”
Okay, then. I guess I’m playing beer pong.
I’m about to tell him I don’t have a drink when a guy, whose name I still don’t know, enters the room with a few beers in his hand.
“Who’s drinkless?” he asks, looking around.
Hunter lifts up his hand, and smiling guy brings the beers over. He hands one to Hunter and then one to me. The bottle is cold and dewy.
The guy walks over to the other side of the table beside Benton and hands him a beer, too.
Hunter tips his head back to take a sip of his beer then sets it down on the edge of the table and turns to me. “Do you know the gist of the game?”
I nod, rotating the bottle around between my hands nervously. “Yeah. I’ve never played it before, so my aim will probably be bad.” I waver. “I guess I’m gonna be drunk really quickly.”
“If you don’t want to be, then just take really small sips.” He brushes a strand of his hair out of his eyes. “No one’s going to make you take any more than what you want.”
“I’m fine. I’ve drank before,” I remind him.
I’m not nervous about drinking. I am a bit nervous about losing the game.
Smiling, he brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “Don’t be nervous, okay? This is supposed to be fun.”
“Yeah, I know.” I resist a sigh. I am way too sober for this right now. Because of that, I take a drink. And then another until most of the bottle is gone. “All right, what do I need to do?” I ask as the alcohol sweeps through my veins. “Or, well, I know how the game works, but who goes first?”
“I can, if you want me to,” he offers, his fingers lightly grazing my side.
“Sure.”
He winks at me and then turns toward the table with a ball in his hand. The other guys stand on the opposite side of the table. And, just like that, the game starts.
Hunter nails his first shot, and so does Benton. Now it’s my turn and,gah, I suck. Like so much so that the ball doesn’t even come close.
“Awesome,” I mumble, totally disappointed in myself.
“You’re fine,” Hunter reassures me. Then he takes a swig of his drink. So do I.
“I’ll help you next time, if you want,” Hunter offers as he sets his drink down on the floor beside his feet so he can crack his knuckles.
“What’re you gonna do?” I question with a smirk. “Hold my hand and take the shot for me?”
“Maybe.” He’s on the verge of smiling.
“What?” I wonder why he’s smiling since we’re currently losing.
