“Excuse me?” Tightening my grip on my robe, I wrap my arm around myself in a defensive gesture.
“I’m an asshole.” He shakes his head. “Never mind. None of my business.”
“I should put some clothes on.”
He puts a hand up. “I’m sorry. You’re fine. I’m the one who’s fucked up. Can I sit down? I brought a present.” He holds up the bag and I can clearly see there’s a bottle inside. “Whiskey.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re right. I should go. I’m not fit company right now, anyway. I don’t know why I came here. It’s just that Cora’s with Leo and I didn’t want to be there with them…you know, together. I’m gonna go.” He unlocks the door.
“Wait. Sit down. I could use a drink.”
“I promise to be on my best behavior.”
“You pour and I’ll go throw some clothes on.”
He does that slow-blink thing, then nods and sits at the table, jamming his big frame into a rickety chair. By the time I get back he’s refilling his glass. I take the seat across from him and stare down into the dark liquid. Closing my eyes, I shoot the whole thing down and hold my glass out for a refill. He obliges me. We drink the second glass together and he fills them again. The booze hits me in a warm wave. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to drink, and with how little I’ve eaten today, I’m instantly buzzed. I sip at the third glass, floating on a gentle sea of I don’t give a fuck.
I wait for Beau to talk, enjoying the company and the silence. I’ve been alone so long I forgot how comforting it can be to just hang out with someone you’re comfortable with.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I wasn’t expecting you to answer the door dressed like that. My head’s a mess. I don’t…” He finishes off his drink and sets the glass down with a thunk. “I shouldn’t think those thoughts about you.”
I refill his glass. “What were you thinking?”
“You don’t want to know. I’m fucked up, and so are my thoughts.”
“You’re not fucked up.”
He raises his glass. “Not yet.” The liquid disappears down his throat.
This time I leave his glass empty. “What happened?”
“We should order a pizza.” He pulls out his phone. “What do you like?”
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. You’re already drunk. I can tell. I’m feeding you before you pass out on me.”
“Order whatever you want. I don’t want any.”
He calls a local pizzeria and orders a large pepperoni and a large with everything and some soda. That’s too much food, I mouth. He shakes his head at me. I pour each of us another glass. Getting fucked up is suddenly sounding like a really, really good idea.
I hold up my glass and he clinks his to mine. “To getting fucked up.” I shoot the whole thing back and set my glass down with a giggle. “I am drunk.”
He slides the bottle out of reach. “No more for you until you eat something.”
“I love pepperoni pizza. How’d you know?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t everybody?” Twisting his glass in his fingers, he stretches his legs out. “Why do you want to get drunk?”
Propping my chin in my hand, I lean across the table toward him. “I asked you first.”
He shoves his drink away in disgust. “My dad’s an alcoholic. I shouldn’t be drinking.”
I push it back toward him. “Fuck that. Getting drunk once doesn’t make you an alcoholic. When was the last time you got drunk?”
“Never.”
“Never?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t know why I’m judging. I’ve never been drunk before either. I guess I thought maybe you would’ve led a more exciting life than me.”
“I was always a rule follower. No underage drinking for me. Never even stole anything. Which is pretty fucking ironic, isn’t it? Me, the convicted murderer, never even jaywalked.”
I clap a hand over my mouth to keep in a chuckle.
“Go ahead and laugh,” he says, gesturing with his glass. “It’s fucking funny.”
Pressing my lips together, I shake my head. “It’s really not.” The giggle gets away from me and I grip my stomach, tipping over.
Beau laughs too. “No, it’s not. It fucking sucked.”
We double over in hysterics. I’ve never seen him laugh like this before. He does it with his whole body, slapping the table and making our glasses jump. The more he laughs, the more I laugh, until I have to wave at him to stop. My stomach and face hurt. I suck in air, trying to calm down.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he blurts out, startling us both with his compliment. “I mean, you’re always beautiful, just more so when you laugh. Never mind.” He grabs the bottle and drinks from it. “Forget I said that.”