“Relax,” he said, digging in the front pocket of his hoodie and pulling out two handfuls of packaged, premixed shots, the kind I’d seen near the liquor store checkout when I went there with my dad. “Everyone thinks these are nasty. I dare you to down one without making a face or spitting it out.”
I bit my lip, hesitating. Aubrey would be pissed if I drank after assuring her I wasn’t going to, and my parents would kill me if I came home with my breath reeking of liquor. But damn it, a dare was a dare. I took one of the shots out of his hands and peeled back the aluminum seal without even reading the label first. Then, after throwing a quick glance behind me to make sure Aubrey and Ethan weren’t anywhere in the vicinity, I tipped the shot into my mouth.
It tasted like lemons and cough syrup and burned my throat like acid. Still, I used every ounce of willpower I had to swallow and keep my face perfectly smooth. Levi and Shane were watching me carefully, eyes twinkling like they were expecting me to hurl any second. When I didn’t, they looked at each other and laughed.
“Told you,” Levi said while Shane appraised me, his gaze settling on my chest.
Eyes watering, I handed the empty shot back to Levi and shoved back into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. I needed something to get this sour taste out of my mouth. Something cold, sweet, and fizzy. But the only drinks in there were milk and orange juice and bottled water, none of which would do much to cleanse my taste buds. Then I remembered Paige’s parents kept an ample supply of Coke cans in the garage fridge.
I expected to find Aubrey when I got downstairs, but she wasn’t there. Justin was, though, sprawled on the family room couch with a can of beer. A few of the junior jerks—including Wyatt—surrounded him, guzzling their own beers while they pulverized animated zombies with game controllers. I walked past them without saying hello and down the short hallway that led to the garage.
Away from all the voices and laughter and pounding music, this section of the house felt eerily quiet. I squinted as I entered the bright garage, which, for as long as I’d known Paige, had never actually held a car. Her parents used it for storage, mostly. One entire wall consisted of metal shelves stacked high with labeled boxes, while the rest of the space was taken up by a workbench with tools hanging on pegboard above it, bicycles, a chest freezer, and what I’d come in there for—the extra fridge. I made a beeline for it, desperate to rinse the nasty bitterness from my tongue.
I grabbed a Coke and immediately popped it open, sipping it as I closed the fridge door. The crisp sweetness cut the sour aftertaste within seconds, and the scorched feeling in my throat and stomach finally abated.
Someone had propped open the garage door with a toolbox, allowing for an unobstructed path to the beer fridge, so I didn’t realize Justin had followed me inside until he actually spoke.
“Whatcha doin’?”
I jumped, almost choking on a mouthful of Coke, and whirled around. Justin was moving toward me, his gait slow and deliberate like he was trying to remember how to walk straight. He couldn’t possibly have come for more beer. It looked as though he was well past his limit.
“Getting a drink.” I held up my can as proof, then added, “Where’s Aubrey?”
He came to a stop in front of me, his entire body swaying slightly to the left. “That’s not a drink, Dare-ya,” he said, ignoring my question. His bleary gaze traveled down my body, pausing at my cleavage before continuing to the can in my hand. “You need a real drink.”
My stomach prickled with unease, but I smiled through it. “Already tried that. I think I’ll stick with Coke.”
He blinked at me for a moment before running a hand over his face. “You’re so fucking distracting,” he mumbled.
My heart thumped in my chest, so hard I wondered if he could hear it. What did he mean? What did I distract him from? Aubrey? The thought made me so uncomfortable that I turned away from him, facing the fridge instead. The can of Coke in my hand was still half full, but I grabbed the fridge handle anyway, pretending to need a fresh one. But I didn’t get that far, because before I could pull open the door, Justin was right behind me, his chest inches from my back.
“It’s not all in my head,” he said, his beer breath rustling my hair. “I see the way you look at me.”
My legs wobbled, and for a moment it felt like my grip on the door handle was the only thing keeping me upright. Justin was drunk, so drunk, and it was clouding his judgment, lowering his inhibitions. That was all. In the morning he wouldn’t even remember saying these things to me, and I’d never remind him. I’d walk away now and pretend it never happened.
“Justin . . . stop. Please.” I let go of the fridge and started to turn, pushing against him with my shoulder so he’d move back, give me some room. But he didn’t. Instead he pressed closer, running his hand along my hair and then down my bare arm, his fingertips grazing the side of my breast.
I gasped at the contact, and my Coke slipped from my hand and dropped to the concrete floor, sending sticky brown droplets flying. The noise snapped Justin out of whatever had possessed him and he backed away, allowing me to slip out from between him and the fridge.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed at him, but he wasn’t even looking at me. He was looking past me, his gaze focused on something beyond my right shoulder. I spun around to see what had caught his attention and came face-to-face with Ethan.
He was standing just outside the doorway, his face red with either anger or embarrassment. Maybe both. I wondered how much he’d seen, how much he’d heard, and my face flamed to match his.
Justin glanced at me once, his eyes foggy and confused. “Sorry,” he muttered. Then he left without another word, brushing past Ethan like he was a decorative plant, no threat at all. Ethan glared after him for a moment before turning back to me, his expression softening.
“Are you okay?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, but nothing came out. My legs felt like someone had replaced my bones with cooked spaghetti, and I stumbled over to the chest freezer, lowering my body until I was sitting on the dirty floor in front of it. The coolness of the freezer seeped through my shirt, making me shiver.
Ethan walked over to the fridge, stepping over the spilled Coke on the way, and got me a fresh can. He handed it to me before sinking down beside me on the floor.
“What do you need?” he asked, his gaze skimming over me like he was checking for injuries. “Should I go find Aubrey?”
“No,” I said quickly. He raised his eyebrows at my tone. “I mean, not right now. I don’t want her to know about this yet.”
“Seriously? He was touching you and you were telling him to stop. Aubrey will understand that it wasn’t your fault.”