by Bailey B
“She doesn’t play beer pong.” Liam turns his gaze to me, a smile tugging at his lips. “Do you? Lainey?” He emphasizes my name and stares me down.
I force my lips upward into a smile to fight the scowl brewing.
I shrug my shoulders and hope I look more confident than I feel. I’ve drank before, a glass of champagne every New Year and a White Claw every once in a while when boating, but this is different. Intimidating. “There’s a first time for everything.”
“That’s my girl.” Asher drapes his arm over my shoulders, pulls me close, and presses his lips to my temple. I smile up at him, ignoring the fluttering inside me while watching Liam glare at us through my peripheral vision.
“Whatever.” Liam tosses his first ball and sinks it into a water filled cup on our side of the table.
Asher drops his arm and reaches across the table for the cup. Someone hands Asher a can of beer from a cooler under the table. He finishes it before the next ball sinks into its home. Asher reaches for that cup too but, of course, Liam has something to say. “She wants to play, she can drink.”
Asher scowls at Liam. I lift the top of the cooler and dip my hand into the ice. “It’s fine.”
My fingers wrap around a skinny can. I pop the tab and sniff the opening. Beer has a unique, pungent smell that is anything but appealing. I tip the can back, squeezing my eyes shut, and almost gag as I choke it down. It takes like hell, but at least it’s cold. I think it would taste worse warm. Thankfully, the beers are mini cans, so I finish it in four quick swallows.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and open my eyes. Liam looks murderous, but that seems to be his expression whenever I’m around these days. I set my empty can beside Asher’s and raise my gaze to him.
He’s smiling, almost proudly, and says, “That was hot.”
I ignore the comment and grab one of the ping pong balls that have found their way into a cup of water on our side of the table. “Is it our turn?”
“Yup.” Asher takes a step back and holds his hand out at the table. “Ladies first.”
I toss my ball and miss. It bounces on the table twice then rolls across the floor. Corah goes chasing after it like a cat to a laser light. I bite my lip and look up at Asher. Hopefully he isn’t upset. We could lose because of me.
Asher chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re going to be the death of me tonight.” He throws his ball and it sinks into the cup in the center of the cup-triangle on Liam’s side of the table.
Liam grabs the cup and pulls the ping-pong ball out. He guzzles his beer in a matter of seconds and tosses the ball back without dipping it in the water cup. It lands on our side and Asher is forced to drink again.
“My turn!” Corah bounces on her toes then tosses the ball. She misses by a mile, hitting Asher in the chest, and giggles. “Oops.”
“What the hell was that?” Liam roars. The music is loud. Most people probably can’t hear how angry Liam is, but I can. I see it in his pinched brows, hear it in the dip of his tone. The muscles of my shoulders tighten and I hold my breath,
“Relax, Lee Lee. It’s just a game.” Corah rolls her eyes and ignores Liam’s accusatory tone.
He hates to lose and Corah’s nonchalant attitude towards this game isn’t helping matters. But Liam isn’t my problem tonight. I’m here with my boyfriend, not the asshole who didn’t bat an eye when he broke my heart.
“Our turn,” Asher says with a smirk. He sinks his ball into the first cup.
Corah bends down for a beer and Liam smacks her hand. He steals the beer, glaring at her, then chugs it.
My turn. I refuse to be dead weight on our team. If I could land one stupid ball into just one stupid cup, I won’t be a lost cause. I close one eye and focus on the cup nearest Liam’s crotch. I practice throwing twice, not letting go of the ball until I’m sure it will go in. It does. I’m so excited I reach for Asher’s cheeks. My lips press against his in a moment of pure excitement. It happens so fast, he barely has time to register what I’ve done before I pull away.
Liam’s face is fire-engine red when I look back at him. If there were any doubts in my mind that he’s jealous, they’re gone. Asher was right. Guys want what they can’t have, and I’d bet it’s killing Liam to watch me with someone else. If we do this right, he might break up with Corah before prom and take me instead.
“Get a fucking room,” Liam growls.
“With pleasure.” Asher grabs my hand and takes a step like we’re going to leave the table.
“Hey!” Liam yells through gritted teeth. “Finish the game first.”
Asher chuckles and hovers his mouth to my ear. “I love watching him squirm.” He kisses my temple then turns back to the table and faces Liam. “Didn’t realize you wanted to lose so badly.”
I’m stunned, my feet cemented to the floor. Was Asher going to take me into a bedroom? What would happen then? Would we kiss? Would he test his boundaries, even with no one around? Better question, do I want him to?
Liam smirks and rotates both ping pong balls in his palm. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Easy there, killer.” Asher’s hands settle on my waist. They’re like fire against my skin, sending a heatwave throughout my body.
I, apparently, am what he calls a lightweight, because after two mini beers my head felt lighter. After the third, I couldn’t stop smiling. I may be the worst beer pong player in the history of the game but, by that point, I didn’t care. Before long, Asher and I had two cups left on Liam’s side of the table. All courtesy of Asher’s killer skills. I landed my ball into the target once tonight. Go me!
Liam, of course, made his ball into the last cup on our side of the table, which meant he won. I took that cup about three minutes ago, beer number four, and now the world moves a half-second slower than my brain.
I turn my head to the left and giggle as I watch the room catch up to me. I’m the fucking Flash, faster than everyone else in the house. I speed from the patio to the kitchen in less than a second, then watch as everyone tries to catch up.
“Up you go.”
The floor separates from my feet and I’m suspended in the air. I’m not flying, although if drinking could make that happen I’d be fucking drunk all day every day.
Asher’s fingers grip my sides as he sets me on the counter. He rests his hands on my knees and pulls my legs apart to stand between them. “Are you good?”
“I’m fucking fabulous.”
Asher’s brows knit together. He’s cute like this, all pouty and protective. I tap him on the cheek and notice how baby smooth his skin feels under my fingers. I bet it would be even smoother if I licked him.
I refrain, laughing at my ridiculous thoughts, and say, “You’re adorable. You know that?”
His lips lift into a delicate smile. Such a nice smile! “You need water.”
“Nooo.” I pout, reaching for Asher’s hand and holding it in both of mine. “Don’t leave me. I’ll be lonely when you go.”
“I’m just walking to the fridge.” He shakes free of my grasp and rounds the counter. I watch as he opens the fridge and procures a water bottle. My jaw falls open in amazement. How did Asher know there would be water in there? He crosses the kitchen again and returns to his place between my legs. He twists the cap off, then hands the bottle to me. “See. I’m still here.”
“You know...” I tip the bottle but miss my mouth. Cold water spills down my shirt. Normally, I’d be freaking out. I hate being dirty or wet, always have. Don’t get me started on sand. The tiny grains sticking to my skin...ugh. It’s the main reason I don’t like the beach, but beer does funny things. I find that I don’t care if my shirt is wet and laugh.
“You’re drunk.”
“Am not.” I giggle. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but that’s something else I don’t care about right now.
“What are we, eight again?” Asher is trying to sound mad but I think he finds me amusing. His lips twitch, like he's fighting a smile and his
hands are on my knees.
My skin tingles. The sensation climbs up my thighs and into my stomach. If I thought there was an inkling of attraction between us at the house before, it’s been magnified tenfold. I blame the beer, but just like everything else I don’t care. Asher is hot. No, he’s sexy. I should be able to appreciate all the sexiness my fake boyfriend has to offer.
I smile and shrug, taking a sip of water, this time finding my mouth. The cold liquid slithering down my throat feels better than I anticipated. I’m suddenly aware of how hot I am and pour some of the cold water down the back of my neck.
“You’re a hot mess tonight.” Asher sighs and shakes his head. “Give me your phone.”
“Oh, are we taking a picture?” I shift onto one hip and pull it out of my back pocket. I like pictures, although I never seem to take any. What’s up with that? Freshman year, my iPhone had so many pictures on it, Mom had to buy additional cloud storage. I can’t remember the last picture I’ve taken this year.
Asher holds his hand out. Palm up. “Sure, after it unlocks.”
I give Asher my iPhone and he lifts the camera to my face. I smile but I realize this wasn’t a photo op. He was using facial recognition to unlock it.
Asher twists the screen back towards him. His thumbs tap against the glass for a few moments, and then he turns around. His back presses against my chest and for a moment, I don’t know what to do. There’s a churning at the bottom of my stomach that is not harmless butterflies. It’s pure desire, something I have no business feeling for Asher, but it’s there whether or not I want it to be.
“Smile for the camera.”
I push my doubts away, drape my arms over Asher’s shoulders, and grin. Liam hated taking pictures with me. He’s always making some excuse to get out of it or he’ll pull someone else into the shot. The photo sitting on my desk is the only one I have of the two of us that’s even remotely recent.
“Wait!” I insist. “I want one more.”
Asher sighs again but doesn’t close out of the app. I turn my head and press my lips to his cheek. I can't see his reaction, because my eyes are closed, but can hear the smile on his face when he says, “Alright now, drunky-drunk.”
My phone dings before he can darken the screen. I look at him puzzled because I haven't texted anyone in hours. Liam is here, clearly not in the mood to text me, and Maggie is probably in bed asleep by now. “Who’s that?”
“Maggie.” Asher thumbs hover over the glass. Tap. Tap. Tapping.
“Why is she texting you? Me?” No. Not me, him. Maggie is texting Asher and I want to fight her and throw up at the same time. This has to be a side effect of the beer because I love Maggie. I shouldn’t be jealous of her right now, but I am. “You. Why is she texting you?”
Asher presses the side button, darkening my screen, then sets my phone facedown on the counter. The fact that I can’t see their conversation makes me irrationally mad. He has a phone. If he wants to fake-cheat on me, then he can do it from his own device. I cross my arms.
Asher slides his hands from my knees, up my thighs, and all that anger is lost in a haze of lust again. “I needed her to cover for us.”
I bite my lip, wanting Asher to say he’s taking me home for more than a sleepover. Nervous needles prick my skin and desire floods my brain again, sending waves of longing between my legs. I look into his eyes, those same eyes I’ve seen day in and day out for years, and wonder if he can tell how much I want him. I wonder if he feels the same pull that I do, right now, and I wonder if he’s drunk enough to break my over the clothes rule tonight. “Why?”
“Because you, love, are drunk and if your mom is anything like she used to be, she’ll kill both of us. So, I told her Maggie needed an emergency girl's night and asked Maggie to cover for you.”
I huff out my nose and roll my eyes. “My mom is never going to buy that.”
“She would, and she did, because I told your mom that Maggie and Russell broke up.” He reaches up and pushes a lock of hair that fell into my eyes behind my ear. “I may have also implied that Maggie is a mess, crying into a carton of strawberry ice cream. Your mom said to send Maggie her love.”
“How do you know these things?” I ask, thoroughly impressed. Asher stays out of people’s business. He’s popular in part because he’s hot as hell, but also because he has this mysterious thing going for him. The ice cream though, that’s Maggie’s favorite, and a detail Mom would have caught. Had he said something like vanilla or cookies and cream, she would have known I was lying.
“It’s pretty obvious.” Asher points to the living room where Russell sits in an oversized armchair. His face is crestfallen. “See that? He’s moping.”
I drag my gaze across the room to Russell again. He holds a red plastic cup in one hand and stares at his feet while Tabitha, a girl that’s in the marching band with Maggie, runs her mouth. She touches his arm and Russell meets her gaze. He shakes his head, then looks back at his feet.
“No, Russell isn’t,” I insist. “He’s avoiding that skank, Tabitha, who should know better than to make a move on what’s not hers.”
“And?”
“And she needs an ass kicking because Russell is off limits!” I scoot towards the edge of the counter but don’t get far.
Asher's hands settle on my hips. His fingers dip under the hem of my shirt, brushing against the skin of my stomach, and I forget what I’m supposed to be doing.
“And moping. Guys don’t ignore hot pussy unless they’re thinking about someone else.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Russell is thinking about Maggie.”
My smile falls. Images of Tabitha straddling Asher flicker in my mind. She dips her head and claims his lips, only breaking the kiss for him to pull her shirt over her head. I shudder and close my eyes. I don’t like it or the way they make me feel. When I open them again I ask, “You think Tabitha is hot?”
Asher laughs and the sound soothes my worries. There’s no malicious intent behind it, or snarkiness, just pure amusement at me acting like a fool. I’d be embarrassed if the fluttering in my stomach wasn’t overpowering every other emotion.
“All of that, and that’s what you take away?”
I shrug and look down at my lap. I grip the counter because I have nothing to do with my hands, then realize I’m staring at Asher’s zipper. Not on purpose, but he’s between my legs and I’ve legit been looking at it for a solid three seconds now. I dart my gaze up, unexpectedly meeting his. I suck in a breath then look past him, to Tabitha, who is still trying to coerce Russell into bed. I watch her, seriously considering the consequences of breaking into her house and shaving her head. I might not have to break in anywhere. If she gets someone in bed tonight, they should fall asleep and no one would know it was me. Just some evil party prank. I smirk. No one would like her then.
“Jealousy looks good on you.”
My gaze snaps back to Asher. Heat claims my neck and ears. “I’m not jealous.”
“Sure you’re not.” He chuckles
“Bite me.”
“Tell me when.” He smirks but silence falls between us again, only this time there’s a new type of tension. My lips tingle. I want him to kiss me and I want it to be real, with tongue and accidental hair pulling. I want to lose myself in his kiss because that’s what every girl says happens when you meet Asher Anderson’s lips.
“Ellie, I need… ”
I twist on the counter when someone walks by with a tray of tiny cups. I know Asher was about to say something serious, but it can wait. Tonight isn’t a night where we should be having heavy conversations. “What are those?”
“Jell-O shots, and you don’t need any.”
I ignore him and slide off of the counter. Mary, I think that’s her name, hands me a pink one. I loosen the gelatinous goo with my finger then dump it into my mouth. It tastes amazing. I finish it and grab a second one before Asher grabs hold of my hips again. “You are going to hate life in the morning.”
I sti
ck my tongue out at him and he rolls his eyes. He pushes me onto the couch and says, “Don’t move. I’m taking a piss and then we’re leaving.”
“You’re no fun.” I jut my bottom lip out, then close my eyes. My head falls back onto the cushion. The world around me is nothing but darkness, but everything spins. It’s not a good feeling. Too much more of this and I think I might puke.
“Want a beer?” someone asks.
I open my eyes and a guy I’ve never seen before stands in front of me, a red solo cup in hand. I felt good until Asher took my Jell-O away. Maybe all I need is another drink to make the world stop turning. “Sure.”
The guy hands me the cup and walks away. I hold the beer in my hand, distracted by a gray blob across the room that looks eerily familiar. After a few seconds, it becomes clearer and I recognize the blob as Corah. She’s straddling Liam, practically humping him on the loveseat.
“Where did you get that?” Asher queries. I don’t know when he came up beside me, but I’m glad he’s here. I don’t want to be a loser alone on the couch while Liam has the time of his life with his new girlfriend. Pretty girlfriend. Is it wrong to hate her?
“I don't know; does it matter?” I spit. My happy drunk feeling is teetering, slowly morphing into a pissed off cat. I want to claw Corah’s eyes out and set her hair on fire.
“Yes.” Asher takes my drink and sets it on the coffee table between the couch and the loveseat. “Guys are sketchy. You don’t know what could be in it.”
I fold my arms, mostly because I don’t know what to do with them, and stare across the room.
Corah and Liam are still making out. His hand slinks up the back of her shirt while hers pull at his hair. The space between my legs tingle. I miss having Liam in my arms like that. I miss feeling the warmth of his body against mine. Most of all, I miss him.
“Are you pouting because I took your beer?” Asher teases. “Because even if there wasn’t a drug in your cup, you don’t need it.”
