Reed drinks while I ramble about living in Kentucky with my mom. I stick to the good parts of my life, because again, I had decided not to drink. Bringing up my mom’s death, living in my car, or anything to do with Rocco would have me reaching behind the bar for something besides water.
Reed engages with me the whole time I talk. His hands stay on me somehow, his eyes glued to mine. Focused and intrigued. As the drink count rises, he becomes more shameless with his affection. He pulls me into his lap and kisses my neck, telling me how good I smell. How amazing it felt to be in my hand. He asks me after Asshat walks away if he can make me come right here in front of everyone. When I blush, he tells me I would love every minute of it, then his eyes darken when he goes into details about what those minutes would entail. I decide to cut him off when I begin to worry he’ll actually act out these vulgar acts.
He’s brave enough to do it. I’m turned on enough to let it happen.
“Come on. Let’s go home.” I take his arm and loop it over my shoulder, securing my other hand around his waist. We get through the tent and make it down the lawn, slowing when we hear arguing coming from somewhere in the parking lot.
“You are such an asshole! Why do I have to keep coming to find you? This is our engagement party, Craig. You should be by my side the entire night!”
Reed and I both stop and turn our heads in the direction of the yelling.
Molly is standing in front of a parked car, illuminated by the headlights that are turned on and shining on her. Her hands are fisted at her hips as she stares at Craig, who’s leaning against the driver’s side door, smoking a cigarette.
He blows the smoke above his head. “What do you want from me? I’m here, aren’t I? Why do I need to be stuck up your ass all night?”
“Because we’re getting married! You should want to be with me all the time!”
“I am with you all the time! Christ! We’re always together, Molly. Give me a fucking breather!”
“Maybe we should keep going.” I try and move but Reed keeps his footing, securing us in place.
“Nah. This is good.” He looks down at me and grins. “I think I need to hear this.”
I shrug, surrendering to this severe invasion of privacy. Maybe Reed does need to hear this. And it’s not like they’re secluded or keeping themselves isolated from wandering ears. They’re right here, out in the open with it, airing their dirty laundry for every guest at the party to hear. This technically falls on them.
“Can you at least do me a favor and keep your hands off my cousin, Ronnie? If I see you hug her one more time . . .”
“She’s hugging me! And you know what? If she wants to do more than that, maybe I’ll let her. God knows you’ve completely forgotten how to work a dick.”
“Oh shit,” I utter under the hushed sound of Reed’s laughter.
Molly points a finger at Craig. “When you can get it up for me for longer than a few seconds, I’ll show you how I work it. Now put out that fucking cigarette before my daddy finds you smoking out here.”
“Fuck him. If I have to put up with your bitching for the next two hours, I’m lighting up. This shit is unbearable.”
“Asshole!”
“Bitch!”
Reed and I keep our laughs quiet as Molly stomps across the grass in the direction of the tent. She doesn’t see us, which keeps my breathing even. Craig mumbles something as he pushes off from the car, flicks his cigarette, and goes after her. Slowly.
I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t be in any rush either.
I start walking us toward the truck, and Reed moves willingly now that the show is over. “Wow. That was totally worth the awful feeling I had listening in on them.”
“I don’t feel awful. I feel fucking great.” He tilts his head down and presses his lips to the top of my head. The smell of liquor clings to my nose. “She can’t work a dick. You know who can work a dick?”
Oh Lord.
I reach into the back pocket of his pants and slip the truck keys out. “Do you need a boost getting in?” I tease, walking him around to the passenger side of the truck.
He breathes a laugh and throws open the door. “Please tell me you know how to drive a stick.”
“Yeah, sure. Can’t be too hard, right?”
He slowly turns his head, pinning me with alarmed eyes.
I slap his back playfully and urge him to climb in. “I learned how to drive on a stick. Relax, Reed.”
He mumbles something I decide to ignore, like the work a dick comment. After getting a running start, I jump up into the truck and secure my harness. The truck rumbles to life, vibrating against my legs. I shift to first gear and stall out on my first try.
“Awesome,” Reed utters, slamming his head back against the seat.
Determination surges in my blood. Yes, it’s been six years since I’ve driven a manual, but it’s like riding a bike. You never forget. Right?
I give it another go, and the truck launches forward, faster than I intend. I squeal as I barely avoid the vehicle parked across from us.
Reed makes a sound of discomfort next to me.