Page 11 of Simply You & Me

"No fucking way!" Rylee gasps from the front passenger seat.

I toss the shot back, spluttering and cursing my burning throat. Honestly, I'm pretty impressed, too. Gabby’s in a tight, dark burgundy mini dress. Where it hides pockets, I have no idea.

Beside Ry, our sober designated driver Tate, chuckles and rolls his eyes. "I don't know what's so cool about pockets for women."

As one, three sets of glares laser into him. The warmth of the hellish vodka swirls in my chest and loosens my tongue.

"Of course, you wouldn't understand. Men are blessed with an unnatural amount of storage space. Meanwhile, we have to drag around fucking purses and stuff shit into our bras, hoping like hell we don't get cancer from our phones. Not to mention, where the hell am I supposed to put my money and keys when I don't have a safe spot to put my shit?"

The car is silent in the aftermath of my rant. My cheeks heat with embarrassment when I see Gabby's wide-eyed shock aimed my way. "Damn, girl. If that's what one shot does to you, I can't wait to get a couple more in there."

Soft laughter fills the car, making me feel better. When I see Tate smirking at me in the rearview mirror, my entire body flushes. His wink sends lightning licking through my veins.

I don't remember the last time I had anything but a few sips of beer, and I'm starting to think I'm a lightweight. I suppose since I have the body of a twelve-year-old boy, there isn't much to soak up the poison. The car slows, and my nerves kick in. Another bottle of UV Blue pokes me in the arm, and I toss it back, gratefully, enjoying the way it takes away some of my overbearing thoughts.

"Alright, ladies." Rylee stiffens slightly at Tate's incoming goodbye. "Rylee, you sure you don't want me to come with?"

She shakes her head, battling the demons left behind from her dead ex. "No," she whispers. "He's gone, and it's not the same place. Just, you know..." Rylee trails off, twisting her high ponytail in her fingers.

Tate's eyes soften. "I know, sis. Text or call me if you need anything, okay? I'll be awake and will keep my phone on me, I promise."

After a few thank yous and safety reminders, Tate leaves us on the sidewalk. The thumping of the bass and moist air makes me cringe a little. It's stifling and all kinds of uncomfortable in my lacy, black teddy lingerie and skin-tight jeans. I didn't necessarily want to wear the jeans, but I felt more comfortable covering my legs.

"BAR!" Gabby shouts, latching onto my wrist and dragging me along with her. Rylee slaps my ass and follows behind, making my shout of laughter loosen my tense muscles.

I'm on a mission to enjoy my night with my best friends.

Chapter Eight

Julian

"You know what's crazy?" Wyatt murmurs, staring up at the spinning ceiling. Or at least it's spinning for me.

"You!" I shout, immediately knowing the answer to his question.

"Fuck off!" He slurs, lifting his head off my stomach, only to bash it into my gut. "Not me. Well, maybe, but no. Fuck. Now I forgot what I was going to say, jackass."

I could think of all kinds of crazy things. "How 'bout the ocean? That shit's fucked. Who really knows what's down there? I mean, if you think about it, the creatures in there look like aliens," I muse, shuddering and swallowing some nausea.

"Christ, Julian. I hate that." Zach groans from his spot upside down on the couch. His pajama-clad legs are thrown over the back of the couch, and his neck is hanging from the cushions over the edge.

All of a sudden, a realization hits me. "OMFG! Do you think all the supposed UFO sightings have been dropping aliens in the ocean, and that's why there are more species being found?"

Wyatt nods, his black hair tickling my bare abs. I run my hands through it absentmindedly while Zach gapes at me. I huff a laugh at his red fucking face. Another thought hits me. "How long can someone hang upside down until they die?"

Zach writhes around, cursing me for freaking him out. With an oomph and a large thud, he sprawls out beside me with heaving breaths. "Fuck," he hisses. "I'm too old to be moving like that. My turn."

Smirking, I hand over the lit blunt and watch as his chest rises with a large hit. I lick my suddenly dry lips, really wanting a taste of my Zachary. He winks and guides the straw of my vodka sprite into my mouth. I sigh, enjoying the buzz with my guys. We haven't done this in a long ass time.

"So, are the Great Lakes really lakes at this point? They all connect to the ocean; anything could swim inland. And don't get me started on the Mississippi River. Anything with an impressive fin span could slither their way up."

Wyatt and Zach both groan, shivering in disgust. I'm waiting for their protests when the door bursts open and a flurry of bare skin tumbles into the kitchen. The three of us don't move, too blissed out from the weed and booze. Honestly, I think I'm pretty twisted right now.

"Oh my god, I loooove this counter."

"Rylee!" Tate's voice snaps. "Do not start with that shit. Please!"

At the riot of feminine laughter, my interest finally is piqued and so are Wyatt's and Zach's. Clambering to our feet, I stumble a bit, barely managing to miss my cup on the ground.

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