Page 30 of Ink & Stardust

“What is this?” I hold up the second shot, inspecting the liquid. “Battery acid?”

“Oh, shut up and drink it!” Charlotte scolds, pouring both shots into her mouth, one after the other.

“Cheers, sis.” River clinks one of his plastic cups against mine before throwing it back.

“Cheers,” I murmur, braving the second shot, which burns even worse than the first. “Awful.” I cough, covering my mouth with my hand when the liquid threatens to come back up for a split second.

After handing my cups back to River, he collects Maisie’s and Charlotte’s as well before leaving to dispose of them, then returns only seconds later.

Most of the night goes on the same way, though I tap out after shots seven and eight, not able to hang with people who clearly have way more drinking experience than I do. The eighthone does me in, the floor starting to sway in time with the bodies so tightly packed on the dance floor that they’re practically moving as one.

When Maisie excuses herself to go find Mac, I use that as my opportunity to step away to use the bathroom, i.e., get off this freaking dance floor before I puke all over it. River warns me to stay with Maisie, whom I lose almost immediately, while Charlotte seems all too happy to see me go. I try not to think too much about that at the moment, though. I have bigger problems than her trying to bag my brother, like getting through this thick wall of people before I throw up.

I stumble over feet. Knock into shoulders. Trip, regain my balance, and then trip again. By the time I reach a clearing, I’ve been stepped on, elbowed, had beer spilled on me, and been kissed by some random girl who grabbed me and laid one on me as I was trying to squeeze past her.

I think it’s safe to say this has been a very interesting night.

Looking around, I try to remember where the bathroom is that Maisie took me to earlier, but I’m completely turned around. This place is massive, with random hallways and rooms I don’t dare venture into.

I wander aimlessly, trying to find my way around through the thick buzz of alcohol that makes my entire body feel like it’s overheating from the inside out.

Realizing I’m most definitely going in the wrong direction, having found myself back toward the entrance, I turn, every fiber in my body seizing, freezing me in place, when I see a pair of blue eyes staring back at me, and he’s way too close.

Kai...

My heart leaps at the sight of him.

It feels like I haven’t seen him in forever and even though my sober brain would never admit it, my drunk brain has noproblem acknowledging that I’ve missed looking at his Adonis-like face.

That is until my fuzzy brain registers the look on his face.

Is he... angry?

“What the fuck are you doing?” he scolds, leaning in so I can hear him better. “You should not be walking around by yourself.”

Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe.I repeat the mantra in my head. But it doesn’t work. Despite everything, I inhale deeply, pulling in the scent of him. A scent I could tattoo on my skin and never tire of smelling.

“Because I’m too weak and frail to walk myself to the bathroom.” I smile, despite myself, way too drunk for this conversation and clearly over my need to be sick, at least at this immediate moment.

“You’re drunk,” he states flatly. “And given that you’ve been wandering around for the last twenty minutes, I’d venture to say you have no idea where the bathroom even is.”

“Lookie there. You are observant after all.” I let out a noise that sounds like a mixture between a hiccup and a laugh, not questioning for a second how he seems to know my every move. I don’t have the mental capacity to unpack that tidbit at the moment.

“Come on.” He shakes his head. “I’ll take you home.” He reaches for my hand, but I pull it away just in time.

“I’m not going home.” I look him up and down, only now realizing that not only is he not wearing white like the rest of us, but he also doesn’t have a single drop of paint on him.

“Like hell you aren’t. Do you know what happens to girls like you in places like this, when you’re not sober enough to fend them off?”

“My brother is here. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

“You mean the brother currently so distracted by your roommate he doesn’t even realize you ventured off alone?”

“Last time I checked, you’re not my bodyguard or my babysitter. Actually, now that I think about it, you’re not my anything. You’re not even my friend.” I smile again, though this one isn’t meant to be friendly. “So fuck off.”

I can tell by the way his eyes flare that I’ve not only surprised myself with my language, but him as well. But that makes no sense because he doesn’t know me well enough to know I almost never curse.

“Careful,” he warns, his gaze dropping to my mouth for a brief moment, almost daring me to say it again.

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