Trouble Brewing

by Suzanne Baltsar

  Sonja stole the fry and ate it.

  Bear flicked his finger back and forth between himself and Sonja. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be between us?”

  “Yup.”

  “You better watch it,” he said, teasing. “Next time you might lose a hand.”

  Sonja waved his warning off. “It’s my birthday.”

  “That’s actually a good idea,” I said. “Base layer to soak up the alcohol.” I turned back to Blake. “Can I have an order of fries?”

  “Sure. Anything you want.”

  “And a shot of tequila!” Sonja added.

  Before I could say any different, Bear circled his index finger. “Round of shots for all of us.”

  Connor clapped his hands once and turned his hat backwards. “Bear’s paying.”

  Bear nodded. “Line ’em up, Reed.”

  Blake checked with me, his eyebrow raised, and I shrugged. “You heard the man. Line ’em up.”

  He set five shot glasses on the bar and poured from a bottle that came from his top shelf. I handed them all out, and Blake came around to our side of the bar, right behind me.

  We all lifted our glasses in the air, and Blake surreptitiously slipped his arm around my waist, tugging me back against him, making it nearly impossible for me not to sigh out loud in contentment.

  He said something but I missed it, too enthralled by the feel of his chest against my back and the citrus-and-cedar smell of his cologne. I wanted nothing more than to taste his lips again, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the way his mouth quirked up as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me.

  Bear brought me out of my trance with his deep “Happy birthday!”

  We all followed suit and clinked glasses before drinking down our shots. Sonja threw her hands up in the air, bouncing up and down. “The champ is here!”

  That was shot number three for me in under ninety minutes—I was still clearheaded enough to know it was my last, but tipsy enough to not second-guess it when I spun around in Blake’s arm and put my hands on his chest.

  He was solid underneath my fingers, and I somehow resisted dragging my nails down to his stomach.

  We were just a few inches away from each other, and he ducked his chin down. “Feeling good?”

  “Feeling fantastic.”

  He started to step back from me, but I stopped him, latching my fingers around his wrists. He pursed his lips, gazing down at me like an adult would indulge a child. “What?”

  “You’re not staying to hang out with us? With me?”

  The side of his mouth tipped up. “You want me to stay with you?”

  My body buzzed with excitement, my insides warmed. “Yes.”

  He ran his fingers through my hair and tucked it behind my ears, then rested his hand on my shoulder. “I like when you wear your hair down.”

  “I like . . .” My words faded when his thumb skimmed back and forth over my throat.

  “You like . . . what?”

  Between the alcohol buzz and Blake’s hands, I couldn’t think of one thing. Nothing. Completely blank.

  He smiled knowingly. “Lemme grab you some french fries. Don’t let anyone take my spot.”

  As soon as he was out of earshot, Sonja was on me. “Those are some major heart-eye emojis you’re giving off.”

  I brought my drink to my lips, taking a sip to give me a moment. “Am not.”

  She shot me a look. “I’d say you’re a few hours away from the one with the heart between the heads.” She paused to take a gulp of her beer. “You know which one I’m talking about?”

  “Get out of here with your emojis.” I laughed. “Go be your own.” I pushed her back toward Bear before turning into the bar to drink my beer. Less than a minute later I got a text from Sonja. A couple of heart-eye emojis, flamenco ladies, beers, cats with the heart eyes, and approximately fifteen eggplants and cherries. Subtle she was not.

  CHAPTER 12

  Blake

  It was well after midnight by the time we all moved over to a table and decided to play a drinking game. First it was quarters, which Connor won with single-minded focus. Then categories, but we were all too buzzed to think of anything good, so we kept naming animals you find in a zoo. It was arguable that you could find any animal in a zoo. Because it was a zoo.

  We were all pretty drunk when someone—I don’t know who—suggested I find a deck of cards. I tossed the small cardboard box on the table and sat next to Piper. She was lovely. I didn’t know if I’d ever used that word before, but I started to think it was underutilized in modern society.

  I wrapped my hand around her neck, underneath her sheet of soft, red waves. “Did I tell you, you look lovely tonight?”

  Her mouth turned up in a lazy smile. “No.”

  “You look lovely tonight.”

  She let out a giggle and rested her temple on my shoulder. I moved my hand down to her waist and pointed to the deck. “What are we playing?”

  Sonja, who had lived up to her self-proclaimed name of “The Champ” by keeping up with Bear drink for drink, shuffled the deck. “Bullshit?”

  No one disagreed, and she dealt. Piper didn’t move from my one-armed hold, which made it difficult for me to arrange my cards, but I didn’t have it in me to let go. Our close quarters also made it easier to see her cards.

  She tossed a trio of cards facedown on the table. “Three fours.”

  While Sonja yelled out the accusation, I whispered it into her ear. “Bullshit.”

  She turned into me so my lips scraped the shell of her ear and temple, and I noticed her slight tremble.

  She sat up and grabbed the stack of cards with a grumble, then realized how well I could see her hand when she looked at me over her shoulder. When she couldn’t hold her scolding face any longer, she broke out into a laugh as she settled back next to me, her left leg pressed against my right. Her hip along mine, her shoulder tucked under my arm.

  By the time last call rolled around, we were all slow to move. Piper was the first to stand, pointing at the bathroom, soundlessly letting us know where she was going. Connor, with his hat on sideways, sat up. His eyes were bleary and red as he threw his car keys on the table. “I’m done. Someone call me a cab.”

  Sonja frowned. “Where’s the after-party at?”

  Bear tapped on his phone. “Want to share an Uber?”

  Connor mumbled his answer into his elbow when he put his head back down. Sonja agreed, drinking the dregs from her glass.

  “Car will be here in a minute,” Bear said.

  Sonja’s face brightened. “Is it Lucy?”

  “Who’s Lucy?” I asked.

  In her drunken state, Sonja ignored me, dancing with her hands up, singing “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”

  “All right, you. I think this party has officially come to a close.” Bear threw her over his shoulder, heading to the door, but I jumped out to stop them.

  “What about Piper?”

  Connor trudged past me. “She’s in the bathroom.”

  “I know that. I mean, you’re not waiting for her?”

  “Nope.” Sonja picked her head up, her face red, most likely from the mixture of alcohol and hanging upside down. “She’s all yours. Get that eggplant,” she said amid drunken giggles. Bear pretended to drop her, and she shrieked. “Your hands can’t hit what your eyes can’t see!”

  Bear gave me a salute before they left in a blur of arms and legs, with Connor dutifully following. He patted me on the arm on his way out, mumbling something about “Don’t screw this up.”

  And coming from Connor, who rarely commented on his own love life, let alone anyone else’s, it was the best advice I was going to get.

  I walked behind the bar just as Piper came out of the bathroom. “Where is everybody?”

  “They headed out. Sonja was pretty plastered.”

  Piper’s head swiveled to the door and back, a confused expression taking over. “How’s she getting home?”

  “The gu
ys are sharing an Uber with her.” At her suspicious eyes, I held my hands up in defense of my friends. “They’ll get her home safe.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Even drunk Sonja could break your jaw.” She plopped down on the barstool in front of me, her eyes still narrowed.

  “We can hang out a bit here or you can go home if you want. Whatever,” I said, but it wasn’t whatever for me. I wanted her to stay.

  She cast her eyes down to where her fingers played with a few drops of condensation from an empty glass, but she hadn’t moved so I figured she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. I helped the bartenders clean and close up. Then Piper and I were alone.

  “It’s so quiet,” she said, and I plugged my phone into the stereo system to put music on before I sat down next to her.

  I grabbed the deck of cards. “What do you think? Up for another game?”

  She eyed me over her beer bottle as she took a sip, and one more time tonight I was tempted to kiss her. “What are we playing?”

  “Pick a card,” I said, setting the deck down between us. “Low card has to tell a secret.”

  She leaned toward me, giving me an eyeful when her shirt gaped open. Her bra was purple with tiny pink bows on each strap, and it took Herculean effort to pick my eyes up.

  “You’re on.”

  We each reached for a card at the same time, our fingers crashing together, but I backed off, letting her go first. She showed me a three. I picked a nine.

  “I hate cooked vegetables.”

  “What?” I huffed. “That’s not a secret.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Hating soggy carrots is an aversion, not a secret.”

  She ignored my protests and picked another card. This time it was a jack. I pulled a six. “I’m going to go your chickenshit route and say I don’t like milk.”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. “You don’t like milk?”

  “No.”

  “But what do you put in your cereal?”

  I swallowed a gulp of beer. “I don’t really eat cereal.”

  “You don’t eat cereal?” When I laughed at her incredulous squeak, she smacked her palm on the bar. “But what do you have for breakfast?”

  “Coffee. Sometimes a protein shake or eggs. Pancakes, if I feel like making them.”

  She gawked at me, her hand on her heart. “I’m obsessed with cereal. It’s one of my favorite foods. Cocoa Puffs, Apple Jacks, Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, Boo Berry at Halloween time.”

  “Boo Berry.” I slapped my thigh in delight. ’Cause I was drunk. “I forgot about that.”

  “I love Boo Berry. More than Count Chocula or Franken Berry.”

  “Are you some kind of cereal connoisseur?”

  She nodded seriously. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  My smile was uncontrollable around this girl, and I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself tonight. She didn’t seem to mind at all, though. I drew my fingers down her cheek, then rested my hand on the outside of her thigh, moving us so we sat facing each other, both of her knees between mine.

  “Your turn,” I said, motioning to the cards.

  She picked a ten. I got a queen.

  “Make it a real secret this time.”

  Her eyes went to the ceiling, her index finger scratching absently on the bar. “Okay.” She focused on me. “I don’t know how to swim.”

  I cocked my head, surprised. “You never learned?”

  “A kid pushed me into the pool when I was really little, and I almost drowned. I’ve been afraid ever since.”

  “Wow.” I spread my fingers over the top of her thigh. “You don’t go in water at all?”

  “I go in but only until about my waist, where I can stand.”

  “Just enough to get wet,” I said as lasciviously as I could.

  She laughed, pushing my shoulder. “Go home, you’re drunk.”

  Instead we both pulled another card. This time I had the low four. “I know all the lyrics to Big Willie Style.”

  “The Will Smith song?”

  I hesitated to answer. “The Will Smith album.”

  She busted out with a big snort, clapping her hands. “Please. Please rap something.”

  I sat back and cleared my throat, ready to put on my finest performance of “Gettin’ Jiggy with It.” I threw out the first couple of lines, but as I really started getting into it, Piper stopped me when she doubled over in a fit of giggles. “Oh my God. That’s excellent.” She sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “You’re really tough. Very hardcore.”

  “It was the first CD I ever bought. At the time I thought I was supercool. I practiced the dance moves in my mirror every night.” I showed her, bouncing my shoulders, emulating the one and only Fresh Prince.

  She broke out in laughter again, and this time I joined in, our heads bent close together. It seemed like ages until we could control ourselves.

  We each picked another card, and I ended up with the low card again, and admitted, “I peed the bed until I was five.”

  “Sure you’ve grown out of that one?”

  I smirked. “Why? You planning on sleeping in my bed anytime soon?”

  She blinked slowly and shook her head so her hair hung forward, but I caught the blush on her cheeks. “Pick again, Tinkle King.”

  I clucked my tongue at her and pulled a queen. “Aha! High card.”

  She closed her eyes tight and picked a card. She opened her eyes and grinned. “A queen. What now?”

  “We both drink and pick again?”

  She agreed and clinked her bottle to mine before going back to the deck. She held up a seven, and I yet again was stuck with the low six.

  “I think you’re rigging the deck,” I said, tossing my card down.

  “I’m not.” But she smiled evilly. “Ante up. Give me another secret.”

  I sighed. “In college, I was at a party, some kind of luau or something, and I dressed as a hula girl with a grass skirt and coconut bra.”

  Piper was already giggling before I even got to the good part.

  “I thought it’d be a good idea to play Tarzan and grabbed onto a string of lights to swing into the little pool they had set up. Turns out Christmas lights don’t hold a grown man, and I ended up busting my face into the pavement. Got a trip to the emergency room in my grass skirt, and this scar.” I touched the faint line on the bottom of my chin.

  “And an awesome story.” She traced my scar with her thumb when I dropped my hand, and with our heads bent close together it wouldn’t have taken much for me to kiss her. I think she realized it, too, because her attention fixed on my lips for an eternity before lifting up to meet my eyes.

  “You’re up, Giggles McGee,” I said quietly.

  “Hold on to your underpants, Tinkle King.” She laughed at her own joke and that made me chuckle as she pulled a card. An eight. This time I beat her with an ace.

  “So, when I was younger I was flat as a board.” She made a face and added, “Still am.”

  I held back from saying I like your boobs and instead settled for “I like you exactly the way you are.”

  She flicked my nose. “You’re sweet. What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Boobs. So, in ninth grade, for the homecoming dance, I stuffed my bra with socks—real creative, I know—and this senior, Tyler Haas, who was sooooo cute, asked me to dance. We were dancing”—Piper danced in her seat—“having a great time. So when he asked me to go out in the hallway, I went. We made out a little and he pulled me into one of the classrooms and got a bit handsy. Lo and behold Tyler Haas did not appreciate my sock boobs and left.”

  She frowned at her memory. “I was devastated and cried, like, all night. And Monday morning, when I tried to talk to Tyler, he’d told all of his senior friends about what happened. I ate lunch in the library for the rest of the year after that.”

  A totally irrational anger coursed through my veins. This was something that happened to Piper years ago, yet how dare this immature dickweed make her cry?

  “I
hate Tyler Haas,” I said.

  She laughed at me, but when I didn’t budge, she leaned in close. “I hate him, too.”

  I breathed her in, the lingering scent of beer and a perfume she’d never worn around me before, but even that couldn’t keep the exhaustion at bay. It was well after three, and I thought it was about time to head out. “What do you think? Time to hit the road?”

  She checked the time on her phone. “Oh my God, yeah.” She brought up the Uber app, but I didn’t feel comfortable with her riding alone with someone this late.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No way. That’s silly.”

  “Piper, it’s late. I wouldn’t feel comfortable about you going home by yourself.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said through a yawn.

  An idea popped in my head, but I didn’t know how well it would go over. “My place is a quick walk. You can stay over if you want. Or go home, but I’m not letting you go alone. Your choice.”

  Her feet danced under her as she considered it, indecision clear on her face. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “You’re not.”

  She typed out a quick text before saying, “I’ll go to your house. But only because I’m beat.”

  “Understood.” I grabbed my phone and jacket from behind the bar and turned the lights off. I locked the front door then held on to Piper’s hand as we made our way out the back door. It was the middle of the night, and the temperature had dropped low enough that our breath puffed out in clouds. But with Piper’s fingers laced between mine, I didn’t feel the cold at all.

  “It’s only a couple blocks this way,” I said, leading her toward my apartment.

  Just a few steps in, Piper said, “How much farther?”

  “It’s six blocks.”

  “Oh my God. It feels like ten miles. I’m sooo tired. I can’t walk anymore.”

  “Yes, you can.” I tugged her along.

  “I can’t. My feet are falling off. My toes are numb.”

  “You’re just drunk.”

  “So are you,” she said, poking me in the side.

  “Exactly. I’m drunk, too, so quit your bitching.” There was no heat in my voice. In fact, I laughed again because so did Piper.

  “You quit your bitching.” She let go of my hand to stand still.