“Lionel is a Scattergories Nazi, if you haven’t already noticed,” said Casey in a conspiratory voice. “Give him five minutes and he will be on his iPhone looking up the rule book.”
I was starting to feel the light buzz from my third glass of wine. Decker’s legs were caged around me and my hand had found its way to his foot that was now resting in my lap. We were entwined like a cozy old couple, and I liked it. With the boldness of alcohol in my blood, I was happy to allow myself the little make-believe scenario I was creating behind the safety of my thoughts. Even Vanessa’s seductive, unwavering gaze in Decker’s direction couldn’t drag me from my happy place. I needed to pee though. For the last four rounds now, I had been holding on, determined not to break away from Decker’s touch.
“PUSSY IS NOT A BREAKFAST MEAL!” Lionel cried with exasperation.
Decker chuckled as he sat lazily back into the couch behind me. “Not for you maybe,” he purred, “but I love nothing more than sweet, wet * for breakfast.”
I saw the heated desire in Vanessa’s eyes. Imogen, on the other hand, blushed like a virginal nun. I was laughing so hard it hurt. Unable to keep the flood gates closed any longer, I jumped up and ran for the bathroom.
Having quickly done my business, I stopped briefly to observe myself in the mirror as I washed my hands. My eyes were glazed with a euphoric buzz, and my hair was a mess, hanging in untamed ringlets over my shoulders. I pulled the unruly mess off my face and admired my neck. I had a nice neck. Not too long like a giraffe, but not too short like a neckless pug. I had an elegant neck, like Debra Messing. Green eyes with a few flecks of grey, like Debra. My nose was smaller and I had freckles, but still hot, like Debra. I smiled then snorted as I let my hair down. Shit, I was tanked. Pushing the door open, I stepped into the apartment only to find Vanessa snuggled beside Decker on the couch. My heart slammed hard in my chest at the sight of her sitting so close to him. Decker wasn’t actually touching her, per se, but he sure as hell wasn’t attempting to put any space between them. Casey jumped up and scampered towards me, his eyes round with alarm.
“Okay, Cinderella, let’s get you another glass of wine,” he sang in a low voice, dragging me to the kitchen while a low growl began to emanate from my chest. “Oh shush, you sound like a cranky kitten.” I turned my glare on Casey who promptly shoved a glass of wine in my hand.
“Two minutes and thirty-eight seconds!” Lionel called out. My brow furrowed in confusion and Casey rolled his eyes.
“I called a timeout. Each player only gets one five minute timeout every thirty minutes, like I said, Scattergories Nazi. Now, Vanessa is harmless. A little drunk right now…”
“You do remember what happens when she gets drunk?”
“I know, Vanessa the Undresser, but she’s still one glass away from letting the girls have free reign. Vanessa wouldn’t be all over your man if you made it clear that he was, in fact, your man. She might be a lightweight booze whore, but she does not touch what belongs to someone else. The simple fact is, she is under the impression that Decker does not belong to you.” He gave me a challenging stare.
“He doesn’t belong to me,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Then suck it up, princess, and back off.” I took a deep breath through my nose, ready to sucker punch Casey. “Or,” he held up a finger to my lips to prevent the outrage from spilling out, “go mark that man as yours. Damn, girl, pee on him if you have to.”
I cast a sideways glance at Decker and Vanessa. She was still sitting practically on top of him, her boob smooshed up against this arm. Decker was sitting, seemingly unaffected by her closeness. Decker wasn’t mine, but he certainly had been acting like he wanted to be mine. I gulped the wine back fast, a little liquid courage, and handed the empty glass back to Casey.