“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, and just stares at me like he wants to say more but thinks better of it. What he does do, is hand me the bottle of tequila. I stare at it for a brief moment, then think fuck it, it’s a party, right? I take it and lift the bottle, taking a long swig. It feels like lava flowing down my throat. I don’t know how people drink this for fun. I open my mouth to offer a snarky reply, but I end up choking instead. “Sorry,” I sputter.
Devin cocks a brow at me. Then tension in his shoulders lessens as he reaches for the bottle again. “Give me that.”
“So, why are you drinking and brooding in a dark room when there’s a party going on downstairs?” I ask, making my way to the bed and sitting on the edge.
He joins me and sighs. “I’m gonna regret this.” He plucks his phone from his pocket and taps on it a few times before turning it to me. It’s a picture of a boy standing in front of a bowling lane watching the ball hit the pins. The caption reads, Mr. Perfect. It’s then I notice who posted the picture: his ex. “Is this Noah?”
“Yup,” he says, taking another drink.
“And that’s your ex’s page?”
“News travels fast in Newton.”
I wince. “I mean, Chloe filled me in a little bit.”
“And?”
“From what I’ve gathered so far is that you and Noah hate each other and now, for some reason, he’s hanging out with your ex.”
He takes another drink. “That about sums it up.”
“Are you okay?” I ask again.
He hands me back the bottle. “I love her,” he says slowly. “But I don’t deserve her, so I had to let her go.”
“Oh cut the martyr shit, Dev. You broke up with her. Now, I’m not saying that makes her getting together with Noah right, but if you loved her so much, why dump her?
“Have you ever done something you regret?”
I stare down into the tequila bottle. I take a drink for courage. “Sometimes I wish I’d stayed in Newton.”
He blinks at me. Then, before I know what’s happening he hauls me onto his lap and forces me to look at him. “Why would you ever regret leaving?”
“I feel like I abandoned everyone. Dad…you.”
Devin shakes his head. “It was bad, Roni…I mean your dad, now is awesome, but back then…you had to leave.”
“Yeah, but Dad got better. Maybe had I stuck it out, he’d have gotten better sooner.”
“Or not at all,” Devin says.
I shake my head. “We aren’t talking about me, we’re talking about you.”
“I was selfish…” He stumbles over the words then shakes his head. “Sometimes it’s hard to do the right thing when the wrong thing looks like the answer to your prayers. Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic. You should go back to the party.”
My fingers itch to touch him and the tequila swirling in my brain makes me bold so I don’t hold back. I brush his hair from his eyes. “You aren’t pathetic.”
“I’m drinking alone at a party. It doesn’t get any worse than that.”
I bite my lip and debate on telling him. Again, I blame the alcohol.
“I lost my muse.” I blurt out. He cocks his eyebrow in confusion and I explain. “I got into this really great art school in Chicago.”
“That’s awesome, Ron.” He shifts our bodies so that I’m straddling him. His hand travels high up my thigh, exposing more skin than I’m comfortable with, but I don’t protest. I don’t because the heat of his touch does something to my critical thinking skills. Higher and higher he goes until the soft pink fabric of my panties are visible. I try to press my thighs together to hide it, but the way I’m sprawled over his lap makes it impossible.
“Yeah,” I say, focusing on the words, and not the way I’m pressed against him. “It would be if I’d actually been able to finish a painting since getting my acceptance letter.”
“Why do you think you’re blocked?”
“That’s the pathetic part.” I frown. “I haven’t actually done anything of note in the last eight years aside from getting into school.”
“That’s a big one,” he says.
“Yeah, but now I don’t have any life experience to draw inspiration from so Chloe came up with the master plan to have the best summer ever, and jam pack everything I’ve missed out on in the last eight years into three months.”
Dev grins. “Sounds like her. What kind of stuff are you going to do?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Try me.”
“Why do you even care?”
“Because it’s you, and I feel like I don’t know you anymore, and I’m not sure why we lost touch, but I do know this feels right, like how it was always supposed to be.”
I inhale, his smoky scent filling my nostrils, and I do my best to calm my nerves. It’s just Devin. It’s just Devin. It’s just Devin. I repeat the mantra in my head like a prayer, hoping to God I can manifest a wall around my heart. I can’t have a crush on Devin Tedesco. There are a million and one reasons why it’s a terrible idea, and yet, as I sit here, drinking from a bottle of tequila, staring into his whiskey eyes, I can feel myself slipping. I look up to the ceiling, “I’ve never been to the beach, so we’re going to do that.”
“Oh, I’m in. What else?”
“I don’t know how to drive,” I confess.
“Don’t let Chloe teach you how to drive; she’ll have you over a cliff. I’ll teach you. What else?”
“Well,” I can feel my cheeks turn bright pink, “then there’s…”
“What? Tell me.”
I shake my head. “It’s too embarrassing.”
“My ex and my brother are screwing, what could be worse than that?”
“Fine,” I huff. “Well, remember how I said I shut out the world and just focused on art?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, aside from losing touch with my childhood bestie, I also never really had a boyfriend, or done anything one would do with a boyfriend.”
“Is that why Chloe is trying to hook you up with Reese?”
I flush, diverting my eyes from his intense gaze.
“Is this for him? Reese?” he asks, fingering the hem of my skirt.
Heat zaps up my spine and I suck in a breath, trying to clear my thoughts enough to answer the question. “I asked her to help me get ready because I wanted to look hot. A little for him but mostly for me.”
He nods, and takes another pull of tequila, his eyes inspecting every inch. “May the Force Be With You.” He smirks, then his eyes narrow. “No.”
“No? No, what?” I ask, confused by his sudden shift.
“You’re not allowed to join forces with Reese.”
I narrow my eyes right back at him and snatch the bottle of tequila from his lips. It still tastes like death going down, but when in Rome. “And you are not my father, Devin.”
I move to stand, annoyed that he thinks he can tell me what to do with my vagina, but his hand grips my hip and he anchors me to him. “Sit still.” I do as I’m told, but only because I kinda like sitting on Devin’s lap, and I one hundred percent blame it on the tequila. “Reese isn’t boyfriend material.” His eyes drop to my lips as he speaks. “And you railed on me for a good five minutes the other night about how sex isn’t casual.”