“You look great,” I said, making a show of looking her over. Great wasn’t the most poetic word I could have used, but I didn’t wanna overdo it.
Brazil came over to give Abby a bear hug. “And I hope you know America’s Brazil-is-creepy story was just a line to get you in here.”
America laughed. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Abby shook her head, still grinning and wide-eyed from the shock of it all. She leaned into America’s ear and whispered something, and then America whispered back. I was going to have to ask her later what that was about.
Brazil cranked up the volume on the stereo, and everyone screamed. “Come here, Abby!” he said, walking to the kitchen. He picked up the bottle of tequila from the bar, and stood before the shot glasses lined up on the counter. “Happy birthday from the football team, baby girl,” he smiled, pouring each shot glass full of Patrón. “This is the way we do birthdays: You turn nineteen, you have nineteen shots. You can drink ’em or give ’em away, but the more you drink, the more of these you get,” he said, fanning out a handful of twenties.
“Oh my God!” Abby squealed. Her eyes lit up at the site of so much green.
“Drink ’em up, Pidge!” I said.
Abby looked to Brazil, suspicious. “I get a twenty for every shot I drink?”
“That’s right, lightweight. Gauging by the size of you, I’m going to say we’ll get away with losing sixty bucks by the end of the night.”
“Think again, Brazil,” Abby said. She lifted the first shot glass to her mouth and rolled the rim from the side of her bottom lip to the middle of her mouth. Her head tipped back to empty the glass, and then she rolled the rim across the rest of her lip, dropping it into her other hand. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
“Holy shit!” I said, suddenly turned on.
“This is really a waste, Brazil,” Abby said, wiping the corners of her mouth. “You shoot Cuervo, not Patrón.”
The smug smile on Brazil’s face faded, and he shook his head and shrugged. “Get after it, then. I’ve got the wallets of twelve football players that say you can’t finish ten.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Double or nothing says I can drink fifteen.”
I couldn’t help but smile, and at the same time wondered how in God’s name I was going to behave myself if she kept acting like a fucking Vegas hustler. It was hot as hell.
“Whoa!” Shepley cried. “You’re not allowed to hospitalize yourself on your birthday, Abby!”
“She can do it,” America said, staring at Brazil.
“Forty bucks a shot?” Brazil asked, looking unsure.
“Are you scared?” Abby asked.
“Hell no! I’ll give you twenty a shot, and when you make it to fifteen, I’ll double your total.”
She popped back another shot. “That’s how Kansans do birthdays.”
The music was loud, and I made sure to dance with Abby to every song she’d agree to. The whole apartment was full of smiling college kids, a beer in one hand, and a shot glass in the other. Abby would veer off occasionally to hammer back another shot, and then return with me to our makeshift dance floor in the living room.
The birthday gods must have been pleased with my efforts, because just when Abby was getting a good buzz, a slow song came on. One of my favorites. I kept my lips close to her ear, singing to her, and leaning back to mouth the important parts I wanted her to understand were from me. She probably didn’t catch that part, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
I leaned her back, and her arms fell behind her, her fingers nearly touching the floor. She laughed out loud, and then we were upright, swaying back and forth again. She wrapped her arms around my neck and sighed against my skin. She smelled so good, it was ridiculous.
“You can’t do that when I start getting into the double-digit shots.” She giggled.
“Did I tell you how incredible you look tonight?”
She shook her head and hugged me, laying her head on my shoulder. I squeezed her to me, and buried my face in her neck. When we were like that, quiet, happy, ignoring the fact that we weren’t supposed to be anything more than friends, it was the only place I wanted to be.
The door opened, and Abby’s arms fell away. “Parker!” she squealed, running over to hug him.
He kissed her lips, and I went from feeling like a king to a man on the edge of murder.
Parker lifted her wrist and smiled, mouthing something to her about that stupid bracelet.
“Hey,” America said loudly in my ear. Even though the volume of her voice was louder than normal, no one else could hear.
“Hey,” I said back, still staring at Parker and Abby.
“Keep your cool. Shepley said Parker is just stopping by. He has something to do tomorrow morning, so he can’t stay long.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, so keep it together. Take a breath. He’ll be gone before you know it.”