Page 67 of Unbossly Manners

“Cheers,” he said and we drank.

He put his arm around my waist and I rested my head against his chest. I liked the safety of his broad shoulders, his strong arms around me. I turned my head up and he kissed me lightly.

The DJ had raised the music and a few people were dancing around us. One guy, Jay, a sound engineer, lost his footing and knocked our table. The beers tumbled sideways and Derrick grabbed them, saving them before they crashed to the floor.

He placed them upright on the table and Jay apologized, dancing away.

“Again, I’m sorry about the other night,” he said, pulling me back to him, his finger tracing my chin.

I kissed the pad of his thumb. It was nice how easily we slid into this intimacy. And I liked that he didn’t care who saw us.

“It’s forgotten.”

The party continued around us, the music got louder, and more people started dancing. The caterers finally arrived, which was good because I was feeling off-kilter. Derrick placed a plate of food in front of me, but suddenly my stomach didn’t want anything.

“Oh, look there’s Analise.” I stood up but my head spun and I collapsed into the chair.

“That’s Karen.”

“Oh.”

My head lulled backward and I looked up at the sky, my star sunglasses crooked. I forgot I had those on.

“I don’t feel good. I want to lie down.”

Derrick gripped me to his side and guided me past a game of cornhole. My foot caught on the edge of the board and I tumbled forward, his fingers losing their grip, and my knee scraped the stone tiles.

My arms spread out in front of me and I slid forward in a sort of child’s pose. The floor felt nice, less spinning. Large hands clamped under my armpits and the floor drifted away from me. I was on my feet again and a sharp pain shot into my knee.

Derrick half carried me to a chair, as I hobbled by his side. Blood trickled down my knee in a zig-zag pattern.

“It’s not that deep.” Derrick inspected my leg. “I’ll get some napkins.”

The roof wobbled and my head lobbed back and forth.

“Peyton?” A voice spoke above me. “Peyton, what’s wrong?”

I squinted. It was hard to focus. Jackson was there, a tall Uncle Sam hat pushed down on his head.

“I feel funny,” I said. That was the stupidest hat. I flicked my hand out, batting it from his head. “Much better.

“How much have you had to drink?”

I put a fist up and raised one finger, then two.

“Two beers?”

I nodded, but my head felt like it was floating. The sun was warm, the wind was rough, Jackson was beautiful.

“Sweet, lovely, misguided Jackson.”

Jackson handed me a bottle of water. “Drink this.”

Derrick returned with the napkins. Jackson spoke to him but I couldn’t make out the words. Everything was foggy.

Derrick knelt in front of me and pressed the napkin to my knee. “She was fine and then she started swaying and speaking incoherently about ten minutes ago.”

Analise came up to us. At least, I think it was her. Everything was moving in and out like a funhouse mirror.

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