What a travesty. Stay strong. *salute emoji*
*middle finger emoji*
Stop texting and driving
“I thoughtthis was supposed to stay chill,” Heston says.
With one hand in the front pocket of my jeans and a bottle of beer in the other, I lean my shoulder against the corner at the end of the hallway. We’ve been standing here, wide-eyed and watching the chaos ensue for a good five minutes.
I wince and suck a breath in through my teeth when the lamp on the side table by the couch tips over and clangs against the rug covering the hardwood floor. Luckily, it doesn’t shatter. The guy that bumped into it quickly scoops it up and puts it back in its place before turning back around and resuming his animated storytelling to a group of friends.
A steel guitar blares from the jukebox. Quarters bounce into shallow tumblers on the kitchen counter. My poor pool table has become a makeshift stage of sorts.
“We’re going to have to nix thebring a friendprivileges,” I mumble.
“No shit,” Heston huffs. “As long as it doesn’t apply to you, huh?”
I quirk an eyebrow but then chuckle when I realize he’s referring to Mesa, who just walked through the front door. She smiles in our direction with a small wave, then stops by the fridge before walking over to us.
Her hair is down, falling in deep red waves to the middle of her back. Her black cropped t-shirt saysdo not give me a cigarette no matter what I sayin small white letters on the front. I laugh through my nose while palming the crown of my hat to adjust it.
When she turns our way, I try not to get too caught up staring. It’s no secret that Mesa is a beautiful girl, and I can handle having a pretty friend that every guy in the room is checking out right now.
What really bothers me is how conflicted I am—teetering back and forth between sincerely caring about her and wanting to protect one of the coolest friendships I’ve ever had, while also losing my mind over more indecent thoughts.
It’s been over a week of torture since I stayed over at her place. The backyard to-do list, movie, and late-night chats were nothing out of the ordinary. But we talked about things that should have made me sick to my stomach instead of happy to tell her. Then, I woke up with her in my arms, and I have not stopped thinking about for a fucking millisecond ever since.
No-strings sex and genuine friendship go together like tight pants and Thanksgiving dinner. But that fact doesn’t make me want to touch her again any less.
I wish it made me stop thinking about her accidental confession that she let slip at the end of the baseball game over a month ago, too. It’s all adding up to be too much for my resolve to handle. There’s nothing I can do about it though, so I grin and bear it.
Selfishly getting my rocks off isn’t worth losing her. We’ve gotten so close recently, and I’d miss her way too much.
After finally stepping up beside me, Mesa samples the drink that she got from the kitchen. Her nose scrunches up, and she looks like she wishes she could sprint outside and spit it in the dirt instead of swallowing.
I hold mine toward her. “Switch?”
“Is it still cold?”
“Yep. Opened it right before you got here.”
She smiles, taking the beer from me and handing me hers. We clink them together in a cheers and both take a sip. I’m not picky when it comes to getting buzzed, but I’ll admit the wine cooler she gave medoestaste like straight ass.
I can only pretend to like it for so long, so I down it pretty quick. The good stuff is outside, so I give Heston a nod in thatdirection. He follows as I spin Mesa away from me, place my hands on her shoulders, and lead her to the backyard.
The rest of our crew is sitting under a string of lights at the patio table. It’s decorated with wrinkled playing cards, two liquor bottles, and several mismatched shot glasses. Heston takes the chair by Gage and I claim the one by Warren.
Mesa hugs Savannah, who’s sitting on Warren’s lap. “Does Blythe have to work tonight?”
“Yes,” Sav answers her with a sigh. “I’m so proud that you’re not hunched over your laptop and burning the midnight oil right now.”
I couldn’t agree more. Never in my life have I seen anyone work as hard as Mesa does. Sunup to sundown some days. Part of me adores her drive. Another part of me worries when she’s hit with a migraine and I can visibly detect how tense she is.
Mesa reaches for a bottle of whiskey. After pouring two shots, she hands one to Savannah and then backs up to sit on my knee. The music from inside filters out around us. She flips her hair over to one side, and I absentmindedly pull down the bottom of her shirt that got bunched up in the back.
“I’ll drink to that,” Mesa says, holding up her shot.
Savannah throws hers back. Mesa sips down half, turns her upper body, and hands me the remainder of the shot. Heston and I make eye contact while I finish the whiskey off for her.
