“I’ll call you tomorrow. This one will too,” Lottie says, nudging an oblivious Stana.
“Sounds good,” I reply. After I finish gathering my things, Reeve leads the way outside.
“Well, I won’t lie. It took a world of self-control not to put my arm around you at that table,” he finally says, wrapping his arms around my waist before pushing my back against the wall of Ali’s flat.
“Someone could see us,” I mutter, not entirely concerned as my eyes zone in on his lips. I lick my own and Reeve pulls me forward, his mouth connecting with mine.
“I could get used to this,” he mutters, his hands digging into my sides.
I give as good as I get, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into me to deepen the kiss.
“I could too,” I reply before resting my head against his. “But let’s take this back to my place before we put on a show for the entire neighborhood.”
He grins, something I’ve noticed him doing a whole lot more around me recently, and I know if I saw him smile every day for the rest of my life, it still wouldn’t be enough.
“So, what’s this big project you have due Sunday?” he asks as we walk home, hand in hand. I fill him in, our mundane conversation just as thrilling to him as pushing me up against a brick wall to maul my face.
It’s then I realize that the love I felt for Reeve before doesn’t even hold up to this one. Because when you start seeing the beauty in the ordinary moments with someone, it goes past love, into something far deeper. I just hope we’re both mature enough not to fuck the entire thing up.
“I love you!” Stana yells from Ali’s embrace, her body swaying along to the music as she celebrates her birthday. Ali beams, love radiating from every ounce of his being. I’d be jealous, but with Reeve by my side, even in secret, I know I’ve snagged my own precious gem.
“I love you too, Stana,” Ali says before his lips descend onto hers. My cue to turn around—there are some things a sister doesn’t need to see.
“How drunk is she?” Lottie asks, still nursing a Coke from earlier. She’s got another early shift tomorrow. I swear all that girl does is work.
“She’s wasted,” I confirm, “and I also might be a tad wasted.” I nod as if that will reiterate the point, then laugh to myself. Fuck, how much have I had to drink?
“It’s a party. You might as well celebrate,” she says, her gaze drifting through the crowd. I don’t have to ask to know who she’s looking for.
Apparently my liquor has given me quite the case of loose lips too. “Owen’s in the kitchen,” I tell her before downing the rest of my drink. Go hard or go home, right? I’m sure I won’t be feeling that way tomorrow. Oh well, tomorrow’s issue.
“I wasn’t looking for him,” Lottie replies, her voice calm and confident.
“Okayyyyy,” I say, “but you know, if you were looking for him, that would be okay too. You know that, right, Lottie? I’ve seen Owen around you. He cares.”
She smiles, and it’s small and a bit sad, nothing like Lottie. She’s this force, so full of life. I decide right here I don’t like sad Lottie.
As if sensing my thoughts, she turns to me, placing a hand on my arm. “I know he cares, Em. That’s probably his best and worst trait. How much he cares about people.”
“Huh?” This is too much for drunk Em, but I wanna be able to comfort her.
“I’m just being dramatic,” she says, then laughs and finishes her Coke as Owen walks toward us, eyes glassy and a big goofy smile on his face. I don’t miss how it grows when he spots Lottie, deciding to lift her into a hug as he approaches.
“Having fun?” she asks, her attention completely on him.
“Indeed, I am.” They laugh, and I suddenly feel I’m imposing on more than two friends.
“I’m actually gonna head home, though,” she tells him, much to his disdain.
“What, why?” He looks her up and down as if something is wrong. They appear to have a silent conversation between the two of them, and to say I’m more than confused is the understatement of the century. But this is some investigating for sober Em.
“I’m just tired, Owen. It’s been a long day and I’ve got a shift tomorrow morning.” When she places a small hand on his arm, he seems to automatically calm, his eyes morphing from sadness to understanding.
“Yeah, of course. Just give me five and I’ll walk you.” He nods, obviously forgetting he’s had a few drinks.
“No way, Owen. This party was your idea—I’m not gonna pull you away from it all just because I need to go to bed. I want you to stay, please.”
Clearly having an internal debate with himself, he looks down at my friend, uncertainty in his eyes.
“I’m serious, Owen. I’m fine, and I don’t live far anyway. I’m just gonna hail a cab.”
“Okay,” he replies, giving her a tight smile. “If you’re sure.”
She rolls her eyes at him, attempting to make light of a weird situation I’m entirely confused about.
“I’ll be fine. Give my love to everyone—I think they’re all too wasted to even notice I’m going. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says to both of us, then turns to me.
“Love you,” I tell her, giving her a quick hug before leaving her and Owen alone. I don’t know what the hell is happening between them, but I think it’s best I stay out of it.
“What’s going on there?” Reeve asks as I walk over to him, the Birthday Boy hat that Stana got him and Ali each to wear already discarded.
“I have no clue,” I say with a laugh. “And to be honest, I don’t think we need to know right now.”
Reeve nods, clearly agreeing. He’s never been one to stick his nose into other people’s business, and I doubt he wants to start now.
“So, I was thinking, the last Sunday of the month is about to happen…” I trail off, hoping he gets the hint.
“This Sunday, my place at six,” he confirms.
I grin at him. “You know, I really did miss you, but I can’t tell if I missed your cooking more,” I tease with a wink.
“Now that Evie is back in town, I’m going to have a lot of competition on the Sunday roast front.”
“I’m not complaining, I don’t know anyone in their right mind who would decline a Sunday roast. If I could have one every day, I would.”
Reeve leans forward, almost as if he’s going to kiss me, but stops himself. Shaking his head softly, he mutters, “Gotta be more careful.” I think it’s more of a personal reminder than one to me, but I nod in agreement. Now isn’t the time to be careless. I look back toward the party of people, which is nowhere near clearing anytime soon, and see Ali making his way over.
“I think Stana is three sheets to the wind,” Ali says, coming to stand with us.
I laugh, looking upon my best friend, who is now dancing with Owen. It seems like a lifetime ago that there was some potential romance between the two of them, but any small fire they had was put out when Ali and Stana finally got together. Now they’re just friends, and thankfully my brother isn’t a freak with a jealousy streak. Hey, that rhymes. Maybe I am still a bit drunk.