“So we can move past this.”
“Berger! I already have. You’re the one who can’t let go of it.”
I laughed. “Okay, then. I have a question for you.” I motioned to her mug. “But first, drink up.”
“Happily.” She wrapped both hands around her mug and brought it to her lips. After a long swallow, she set it down and gave me a loopy smile. “Yes?”
“When you found out I’d told Nick where to sit in the auditorium, how did you feel?”
“Hurt, because you went behind my back,” she blurted out, then looked surprised she’d said anything. “You’re trying to get me drunk so I’ll tell you things.”
I couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “You’re trying to get yourself drunk.”
She shook her head. “Not drunk. Just really, really relaxed.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” I said in a low voice, mostly because I couldn’t get the words out any louder.
She leaned forward slowly, staring into my eyes, her look so intense there was no doubt I was about to get the truth from her. Finally. “I trusted you,” she said. “You were my friend, and I trusted you, and no matter why you did it, I still feel like I can’t trust you anymore.”
And there it was. “I’m still your friend. And I’ll never interfere in your dating life again. I promise.”
She ran a fingertip back and forth across the glass tabletop, looking so sad that I had to sit on my hands to keep from hauling her into a hug.
“Lindsey,” I said.
She looked up, her hand going still.
“I’m gonna do whatever it takes for you to trust me again. Okay? I’m gonna tell you all my deepest, darkest secrets. So many things, you’ll be sorry you ever gave me the chance. But you will give me the chance, because you want us to be besties again, and we have to be because we’re both married to Bagel Bites and that causes us to have to practically live together, so it’s important that we get along.
“So, no secrets, no lies. Okay?”
She stared back, her mouth half open. “I have no idea what you just said, except no secrets, no lies. I agree.”
“Good.” I got up. “My hot chocolate has cooled off. Don’t freak out, but I’m gonna put it in the microwave.”
She placed the back of her hand against her forehead. “Ah, Berger, sometimes I despair of you.”
I grinned. “Now who’s not making sense?”
She stood. “I don’t know, but I need another one of these.”
Uh-oh. She’d downed that pretty fast. Maybe I could get her to drink one without the schnapps. But no. Before I’d even closed the microwave door, she’d splashed a measure of schnapps into her mug. Okay, new game plan. Keep Lindsey more sober than drunk. Yeah, that was going to be easy.
I punched in twenty seconds on the microwave and hit start. “So what’s this weird music we’re listening to?”
She straightened. “Oh. I forgot I turned that on. It’s The Beatles, on my dad’s playlist.”
“What’s the song? And why, oh why, do you have it on repeat?” The microwave beeped. I grabbed my mug.
“Um, I don’t know.” She went to her mother’s desk and reached up to the shelves, flicking something that turned the music off. “Oh, right, I remember now. It’s called ‘Yesterday,’ about a bad breakup.”
Oh, great. Alcohol. Sad breakup song. Had something happened to put her in this mood? Or was she just generally depressed? I grabbed her mug and dumped out half the liquid—hopefully most of the alcohol—then poured in more hot chocolate from the pan. When she came back, I handed it to her. “In the interest of full disclosure and no secrets,” I said, “I dumped out some of your schnapps.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You did what?”
“You put too much in. You were gonna get too relaxed, too fast. So I just lightened it up a little.”
She scowled. “You shouldn’t have.”
She snatched up the bottle to add more, but I touched her hand, stopping her. “Taste it first,” I said.
Her lips were tight, but she sipped the drink anyway. “It’s all right, I guess.” Her voice came out so flat and grumpy that I sucked in my cheeks so I wouldn’t laugh.
“See,” I said, “I don’t want to hang with passed-out Lindsey. I want you to be awake so you can tell me jokes.”
A sound like a smothered laugh came from her throat. “You’re such a big baby.”
“I know. That’s why people love me so much.”
“Come on, Mr. Delusional.” She grabbed my shirt tail and pulled me out of the kitchen.
Thirty-Four
Berger
Fifteen minutes later, we were halfway through the sitcom we’d finally agreed on, when Lindsey seized the remote and paused the show. “This isn’t funny. Let’s find something else.”
I straightened up from my slouch on the sofa. “What? It took us forever to decide on that one. Let’s finish it.”
“There’s got to be something better.”
I snatched the remote from her and pressed play, the sitcom flaring back to life. For one full second, Lindsey glared like I was a bug she wanted to squash. Then she launched herself toward the remote. Or what she thought was the remote. I’d shoved it between the couch cushions, but she was going for the hand behind my back. She pushed and pulled, trying to get behind me, her movements more sluggish than they would’ve been without the alcohol in her system.
“Berger, turn that crap off!”
I laughed even though I probably shouldn’t have.
With a growl, she tugged my arm forward, saw my empty hand, and then tugged the other arm forward. “Where is it?” She managed to get behind me and let out an exasperated noise.
“I’ll tell you if you’d just sit d—” With a sudden shove, I was on the floor. I laughed even harder.
Lindsey stood above me with her hands on her hips like a victorious warrior. “Where is it?” She sounded mad, but she was smiling.
I lifted both hands. “You got me out of the way, you find it.”
For half a second, she looked like she was about to attack. I braced myself, but she ripped out one of the couch cushions instead and immediately saw the remote. “Ha! Success!” She stopped the sitcom, fixed the couch, and dropped back onto it.
“Is it safe to get up yet?” I asked.
“You won’t know until you try,” she said with a prim smile, her gaze on the TV as she scrolled through other shows.
I rolled into a sitting position and then eased up onto the sofa. She didn’t even glance at me. But there was still a chance she might launch some kind of attack. I was just clueless as to what type.
“Apparently there’s something you don’t know,” Lindsey said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In my house, I rule the remote control.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That’s pretty snotty of you.”
She pursed her lips and proceeded to ignore what I’d just said. “So, because of your behavior, you now owe me something.”
Was she serious? Or just buzzed? “Like what?”
I was distracted by the menu on the TV screen, so I didn’t notice she’d started inching closer until she loomed up next to me. “Wha—?” came out of my mouth as I leaned away. And before I could even process how it happened, I was lying on my back with Lindsey on all fours above me, one of her knees digging into my thigh.
Everything in me went on red alert, like my nerve endings were screaming, Incoming! “What’re you doing?” I asked, amazed that I sounded so calm.
She tilted her head, causing her hair to swing closer to my shoulder. “You owe me, so you need to kiss me.”
Holy crap! She was drunk. She had to be. There was no other explanation for what was happening. “Um … I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” I moved my leg more onto the couch to get out from under her needle-like knee.
She grinned and angled her head closer. “Don’t you want to kiss me, Dragon Boy?” she whispered.
“No … I
mean, yes … I mean, no.” My ability to think had been hijacked by her nearness. Every inch she moved closer to my face killed off another hundred thousand brain cells.
She let out a throaty chuckle. “Why not?”
“Because we’re frien—”
“Do you like boys?”
“What?” I lifted my head so fast we almost bashed noses, but she was laughing and turned her head away just in time. I had to stop this. She’d hate me later if something happened between us. My neck was straining, so I lowered my head. “I like girls, Lindsey, but you should—”
“Oh, good,” she said, releasing a long, chocolate-peppermint sigh and sinking against me.
Soft. Warm and soft. It took every single ounce of will that I had to hold her by the shoulders and not wrap my arms around her and kiss her until she couldn’t think straight. I was a saint. I should be knighted. They should write songs about me in tales of fantasy and lore. I had the perfect title—“Ode to the Dumbass.”
Now. Stop her now.
She ran her fingers into my hair. “Always so messy,” she mumbled.
“Lindsey,” I choked out.
“Hmm?” She buried her face inside my shirt collar and nuzzled my neck.
Tingles shot down my body. I tightened my grip on her arms and pushed her all the way up to a sitting position. Well, I was sitting. She was on her knees, looking dazed. We stared at each other for endless seconds, both our chests rising and falling with heavy breaths.
Something had to have set this off. She just didn’t seem that drunk. “Are you all right?” I asked quietly. “Did something bad happen today?”
She looked away, her lips working against each other. Finally she turned back, her eyes shiny with tears. “I ran into Adam at the grocery store. He was with Brisa, talking and smiling. And then he saw me. We made total eye contact. And he looked away. As if we were complete strangers. As if he didn’t know me at all.” A sob burst out, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Lindsey,” I whispered.
Then abruptly she was untangling herself from my legs and stumbling to her feet. “No,” she said, her voice low and hard. “I will not cry over him anymore.”
“Good. He’s not worth it.”
But she didn’t seem to hear me. She moved jerkily away from all the furniture, muttering under her breath. When she found a clear spot, she paced back and forth, one fist pressed into her chest. “I’m going to run into him sometimes, it’s going to happen, but I don’t have to cry every single time it happens.”
“Right,” I said, even though she was talking to herself.
“I don’t need him. He’s a jerk. He can go be happy with his pregnant girlfriend, and they can make more beautiful babies together.”
“At this rate, he could be a grandfather before he hits forty.”
She frowned. “What’d you say?”
“Nothing.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, staring off into space. “It’s just that sometimes I get so cold, you know? Adam’s gone, and it’s like I’ll never be warm again.”
Oh my God. This girl was killing me. I went to her and wrapped her up in my arms. “It’s gonna get better,” I whispered against her hair.
She clung to my shirt and then slipped her arms around me, tightening her grip so that her fists felt like little rocks against my back. “Berger,” she said in a breathy voice, her cheek pressed against me.
Something popped open in my chest, like a cork from a bottle of wine, and warmth spread all over, almost staggering me. Just great. I cared about Lindsey. I probably cared too much. And she was in no place to handle some guy with new feels.
And it wasn’t a crush like Gray thought. When I had a crush on a girl, she could do no wrong. She was perfect, as though she’d sprinkled stars across the heavens, or any other stupid cliché I could come up with. But this was different. I knew Lindsey. I knew what a mess she was. I knew how much she tried to keep it all together. I knew the masks she wore.
She was also beautiful and funny and annoying. And I was falling for her hard. How in the heck had that even happened? How had I gone from barely tolerating this girl to really caring about her?
And just what was I going to do about it?
Her hands relaxed on my back. “I can’t stand up much longer,” she said into my shirt.
I stepped back, holding her shoulders to steady her. I needed to leave. It would be beyond bad if I said or did something embarrassing. “Can you walk okay? Do you need me to help you to your room before I go?”
She fingered the edge of my shirt sleeve, not looking at me. “I’m okay. Do you have to go? Could you maybe stay a little longer?”
I really needed to go. Mostly because I really, really wanted to stay.
I tugged out my phone. 10:50. I was okay on time. I just wasn’t sure this was a good idea.
“Um,” I said.
She looked up with an expression so raw and vulnerable that all I wanted was to take care of her. Why was I such a sucker for needy girls? I took her hand and led her to the leather recliner. There was room for two people in it. Kind of. And she was probably going to be asleep in minutes, anyway. I sat and pulled her down next to me.
She let out a low laugh. “This is gonna be too squishy. You’re taking up all the room.”
“Stop complaining,” I said and pulled the lever that lifted our legs as we reclined. “I just want to hold you.” The words were out before I could stop them. Would they weird her out? Make her want to run away?
But she smiled like she was surprised. “You want to hold me? Really?”
I had to keep this light. I was already in too deep as it was. “Yeah, Drama Queen. So assume your most comfortable position, and I’ll hold you.”
“Wow. That may be the best offer I’ve ever had.” She grinned and snuggled down against me, her head on my chest, an arm across my waist, one knee resting on my legs.
Okay, man. You can do this. Just don’t touch her any place you shouldn’t. I settled my arm across her shoulders, and she sighed.
I reached out, snagged the remote from the arm of the couch, and turned on the TV. I definitely needed a distraction from Lindsey’s warm, sweet-smelling body.
“Just don’t finish that other dumb show,” she mumbled.
“Okay.”
I started a different sitcom, and in five minutes, Lindsey’s breathing was deep and slow. So deep and slow that I must’ve dozed off with her, because the next thing I knew, someone was shaking my arm.
Thirty-Five
Berger
I opened my eyes to a scowling male face I’d never seen before.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and irritated. “My parents are gonna be in this room in about thirty seconds, so you might want to get out from underneath my little sister.”
Adrenaline buzzed through me, and I swore. “Lindsey, wake up.” I wiggled her. “Come on, Linds, you need to wake up.”
The guy, apparently Lindsey’s brother, reached over and threw the recliner’s lever, which knocked our legs down with a bang. Lindsey lifted her head, then dropped it back to my chest.
I frowned at him. “Hey, man.”
He shook his head. “She sleeps like the dead. You can’t just jiggle her. Lift her a little so I can pick her up.”
Really? He was going to carry her dead weight all the way up the stairs? Better him than me. He straightened to his full height as he moved to Lindsey’s side of the recliner. My mouth fell open as I looked up at him. Geez, okay, guess he was big enough to carry her. I lifted her off my chest, and her brother scooped her up. She started to grumble, but he said, “Come on, Piglet, time for bed.”
She mumbled something I couldn’t hear, and he cradled her like a baby as he headed for the door. “Don’t leave before I come back,” he said over his shoulder. “I want to talk to you.”
Oh, just perfect. I got up and checked the time. Only twenty minutes had gone by while we slept. Good. At least I wasn�
��t going to be in trouble at home. But here? That was a different story. I straightened the couch cushions and picked up our mugs. Lindsey’s parents’ voices sounded from the kitchen. Guess I’d better get it over with.
I walked into the kitchen and paused. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor stared at me, both their expressions sterner than I’d ever seen before. “Um, hello,” I said, putting the mugs beside the sink.
“Hello, Trey,” Mrs. Taylor said, the wrinkle between her eyebrows deeper than usual.
The recessed light in the ceiling shone on Mr. Taylor’s thinning auburn hair. He gave me a sharp nod. “Trey.”
I sank my hands into my pockets. I wished the inquisition would just go ahead and start already. That would be better than these grim, worried looks.
“How long have you been here?” Mr. Taylor asked.
“Since a little before ten,” I said.
Lindsey’s parents exchanged a look. “Did you know Lindsey isn’t allowed to have boys here when we’re not home?” Mrs. Taylor asked.
“No, ma’am.” How could I do this without throwing Lindsey under the bus? “But we were expecting you home any time.” Good, that was good. Nothing would’ve happened between us if we were thinking parents were about to walk through the door, right?
“Where’s Lindsey?” her dad asked.
“Her brother carried her upstairs. She had, um … She fell asleep, and I felt weird about leaving her before y’all got home.”
Mrs. Taylor’s face relaxed into a smile. “That was nice of you.”
But Lindsey’s dad wasn’t ready to forgive. He scratched his head, looking perturbed. “Listen, if you ever come over and we aren’t here, I want you to leave. Understand?”
I nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yes, sir.”
“Or just talk to Lindsey outside,” Mrs. Taylor said.
“Okay. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to maintain eye contact, especially with Lindsey’s dad scowling at me. I looked at my feet for a sec. “Sorry about everything. She just—” Stop. Don’t tell them Lindsey’s secrets.
“She just what?” her dad asked, leaning one hand against the center island of the kitchen.
Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) Page 14