Page 38 of Keep Me

“That is one hell of a wife, Barclay. How the hell did you manage that?” he slurs.

I laugh and rub my brow. “Fuck if I know,” I reply. I have to keep my answers vague and noncommittal. I’m too fucking drunk to answer anything specific.

“She’s hot as fuck. I bet she’s fire in bed. Tell me all the dirty details, please. I hear American girls are wild.”

I give a chuckle, avoiding the sour taste in my stomach. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You arse,” he replies with a laugh. “I haven’t shagged anyonein months. I miss your parties. I’m fucking desperate. Does she have a sister?”

I smile at the ceiling without answering. Does she?

No. She’s an only child. I think.

Fuck, I’m an arsehole.

The group of us are all scattered in a circle. Angus is across from me, the smartest mate in the crew. He and his wife, Claire, have been married the longest. Next to him is Greg and his wife…Emma? Then there’s Nick and his longtime girlfriend, Theresa, to our right.

We started partying hard here every month a few years back. That’s about the time I stopped leaving my house. Stopped doing a lot of things. As my eyes scan the group, I let myself imagine I could have ended up like them. I could have gotten married, moved to the city, and had a few kids. Lived a normal life. Instead of burying myself in the past.

They seem happy. But then again, none of them had gaping wounds of grief and regret to cure with alcohol and women.

Sylvie walks in from outside. She has her arms wrapped around herself as she shuffles toward me, taking a seat at my side, leaving a foot of space between us.

“Let’s play a drinking game,” Liam announces before going to the bar to retrieve a fresh bottle of wine. He sets it in the middle for us. When he notices Sylvie doesn’t have a glass, he gets one and fills it for her with a wink.

My molars grind, and I don’t understand why I can’t just relax.

“Never have I ever…” he says. A few people around the group give a positive reaction, but I personally hate this game. It somehow only makes me drunker and feel like a piece of shite. Not to mention, if I want to keep this party under control, a drinking game is not the way to do it.

I feel the weight of Liam pouring whisky into my glass, and I force a smile toward him. “Thanks.”

“Killian…why don’t you start?” he says as he drops into a seat next to me.

I let out a groan. Then I glance at the woman to my left. “Never have I ever broken into someone’s house.”

Sylvie gives me a stern glare as she lifts her glass to her lips. The people around us break out in laughter, but no one else takes a drink.

“Your turn,” I say to her as she wipes her lips.

“Never have I ever been so drunk I sliced my hand open without even knowing it.”

I try not to give much of a response. I just lift my hand, revealing the still-healing scab, and take a sip of my whisky.

Sylvie stares at me for a moment, looking not quite proud but not quite apologetic either. The game goes around the circle, most of the questions staying innocent and fun. That is until it comes around to Liam.

“Never have I ever fucked two chicks at once.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Greg teases.

Sylvie’s eyes glance toward my face. This one isn’t too bad. The guys here know me, so it’s not like I have anything to hide. I lift my glass and take a small sip as everyone reacts with laughter and cheers.

When I bring my glass back down, I do my best not to look at Angus’s wife across the room.

“Your turn, Barclay,” Liam says, prodding my shoulder.

Fuck, I’m tired of games. I used to love shite like this, but now it feels targeted and dangerous.

Aren’t we getting too old for this?

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