Page 44 of The Chase

Brenna and I clink our glasses, raise them to our lips, and throw back the shots. The cinnamon-flavored liquid burns a path all the way to my stomach.

“Jee-zus!” I groan. My mouth and throat are on fire. “I forgot how potent this stuff is.”

“Another one,” Brenna orders. “I barely felt that.”

With a snort of laughter, I pour two more shots.

As we drink our next round, I can feel Fitz’s cautious gaze boring into me. I bet he wants to lecture me about the booze. Warn me to slow down. But he keeps his mouth shut.

“Oooh-kay, I definitely felt that one!” Brenna’s cheeks are flushed now. She wastes no time whipping off her tight black sweater, leaving her in black skinny jeans and a lacy, barely-there camisole.

Hollis’ blue eyes smolder. “Wanna go upstairs? To answer Summer’s question, I’m a ten. Completely hairless…”

A giggle pops out of my mouth. Right. As if that’s going to entice her.

“Absolutely not,” she replies. She reaches for Fitz’s abandoned Xbox controller. “What are we playing?”

“Killer Instinct.”

“Nice. I know this one. Let me play Hollis. I want to blow his brains out a couple times.”

Hollis beams. “All I heard was ‘I want to blow.’ And my answer is yes. Blow away, baby.”

Sadly for him, she sticks to virtually shooting him in the head half a dozen times. I’m not particularly fond of watching other people play video games, so I peruse Hollis’ Spotify library on his open laptop, make a playlist, and spend the nexthour rocking out by myself while Brenna takes turns facing off against Hollis and Fitz.

We down two more shots during that hour. And then another two, after Hollis insists there’s no point leaving such a teeny tiny amount in the bottle. “This is Briar!” he shouts as if he’s acting out a scene fromGladiator. “We finish what we start!”

I’m drunk enough that his speech makes perfect sense to me. So the three of us polish off the Fireball, while Hunter snores softly in the armchair and Fitz watches me with what I think is disapproval. I can’t be sure, because my vision is a wee bit fuzzy.

And the room might be a wee bit spinny.

But that could also be because I’m spinning.

“I think it’s time for bed.” Fitz’s low voice rumbles in my ear. He comes up behind me as I dance to a Whitesnake song from Hollis’ metal playlist.

I was in the middle of a ponytail-swishing move, so my hair whips him in the face when I twirl around. He doesn’t even flinch. Just plants one big hand on my arm to steady me before I topple over.

“I’m not tired,” I inform him, shrugging his hand off.

Once again, I teeter on my feet. And once again, he grabs hold of me.

Only this time, he takes it a step further.

Before I can blink, my whole body is in the air. Fitz heaves me over his shoulder, and suddenly I’m staring at the back of his black T-shirt while my legs dangle over his broad chest.

I kick him. “Put me down! Oh my God, Fitz!”

“No.”

I kick him again. Harder. “Put me down! Brenna, save me!”

“Babe, you’ve been solo-moshing to hair metal for the last hour,” I hear her say. I can’t see her, because Fitz is still caveman-handling me. “I think he might be right. I’ll be up after this game.”

I catch a glimpse of her amused face before Fitz marches us toward the stairs.

“Seriously,” I growl. “Put medown.”

“No.” His arm is like an iron vise around the backs of my thighs.

---