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My best friend…she’s moving out and now she’s getting married, too? I know this should be a good thing, but all I can think about is how soon she’ll be leaving me. Just like everyone else does. I’m her best friend, and I should be celebrating this moment with her. But instead, I head straight to the kitchen to find anything I can drown myself in. My eyes land on a bottle of whiskey, apparently my drink of choice today. I don’t even waste time pouring the liquor in a cup, as I grab the bottle by the handle and put it to my lips, nursing it slowly but eagerly.
It's been an hour or so, I think. But I’m too drunk to really know how much time has passed. I’ve been wandering around the house by myself, weaving in and out of crowds, seeing Dakota only for a brief second before Asher whisked her away, probably to have newly engaged sex. Must be nice.Sex. I accidentally run into a couple of guys in the hallway on the way to the bathroom, making them spill their drinks all over the place.
“So sorry. I can’t tell where you’re going.” I stumble around them and push my way into the bathroom. I pull down my pants and start to pee when I notice two girls and one guy are in the bathroom with me, now staring at me, half ass naked on the toilet.
“Sorry to barge in. Well, I actually didn’t know you guys were in here but, I just really, like, could not hold it anymore. Are you guys having so much fun at my bestie’s birthday? I can’t believe she’s having sex before marriage right now!” I snort out a laugh, still peeing and obviously slurring my words.
They all make a weird face at me before leaving. Whatever, they’re just mad because I’m having way more fun than them. I pull myself together and head to the sink to wash my hands.
I get interrupted mid hand-wash when two people mid-make-out-session burst through the door. I hurriedly make my way past them; they don’t even notice me. But suddenly my body rises with heat for desire. Everyone has hands in places where hands don’t belong. Lips are smacking and tongues are clashing. My body goes hot. As I make my way back into the hall, I start to feel a bit dizzy, and I don’t know what makes me think of him.Callan.
Something tugs at me to pull my phone from my pocket, so I do, and open up a text message to start typing.
is so supr hot in here
I send, not realizing the typos because the alcohol has taken over and I’m too dizzy to notice. Within seconds, I get a text back.
Sterling?
I smile at his immediate response.
NOO ITS GERALD GIVEME A RAISE
I text back, laughing ridiculously at what I said, and realizing my message is now screaming at him in the form of capital letters.
Are you drunk?
Shit, he caught me. I try my best to minimize the accusation.
NOPE. NO DRINKIN 4 ME.
At this point, I have no idea what I’m saying to him. I can’t tell if my heart is racing at the thought of texting him or because the half bottle of whiskey is taking over my bloodstream. I’m standing in the middle of the hallway staring at my phone as people are filtering in and out. They obviously don’t even notice me, as I keep getting bumped in complete disorder. My phone pings.
Miss. Cooper. I’m going to need you to tell me where you are.
He replies, and before I have a chance to even figure out where I am, another text comes through.
Now.
Damn, he’s bossy.
MAKE ME BOSS
I send back, because really…why should I listen to him? It’s not like I’m on the clock. Suddenly I feel like I’m going to be sick. I stumble down the hallway until I find a room that isn’t locked or occupied by strangers humping each other and trip my way towards the bed.
I lay all the way down on the bed, feeling the alcohol settle deep inside me. The room starts to get hazy, and the dreaded spins start taking over. Thankfully, a breeze coming in from an open window makes me feel a little better. My sudden relief is interrupted when I get another text message.
Sterling, you should be careful what you wish for.
And then another.
Start making demands of me and I might just exceed your wildest expectations.
I read Callan’s message and almost choke. Did he really just say that? I squint my eyes hard at the message, to make sure I read it right. Blood rushes to my head and heat pulsates through my body, as my phone buzzes once more.
Location. Now.
I hate how much I’m enjoying bossy Callan. He makes me weak, and I kind of hate him for it. Maybe it’s because I’ve been drinking literally all day, but I kind of like flirting with him, even if I know I shouldn’t.
