Page 11 of I Blame the Alcohol

“Ten bucks says Nico dealt him a bad hand.”

I burst out laughing and hold out my hand, “Twenty says he got a good hand but doesn’t know it.”

Lou smirks and grabs my hand, “Deal.”

She starts to make her way towards the cramped living room, and it takes all of two seconds for her to realize I’m not following. Pausing right before the dense crowd swallows her up, Lou looks back with concern, “Stella?”

I hold up the drink in my hand and tilt my head towards the kitchen, “I need to pour this out. I’ll catch you in a bit, okay?”

A worry line appears between Lou’s perfectly penciled brows – done by yours, truly – so I hold up my phone and tap it in reassurance. With a hesitant nod, Lou resumes her trek through the drunken wilderness, and I wait until I hear Wes’ excited exclamation about her arrival before heading the other way.

One glance at the overcrowded kitchen full of splashing drinks and rambunctious laughter is all the motivation I need to change course and head down the hallway in search of a bathroom. Thankfully, it’s still early at the party scene, so the number of couples groping against the wall are few and far between.

I duck past a doorframe that’s missing a door and come to a mud room. A satisfied smile hits my face when I spy the bathroom tucked into the far corner, the door left ajar so I can see the mirror peeking through the doorway.

Bickering voices hit my ears before my eyes register the figures in the mirror. The back of Hunter’s mop-like haircut gives him away immediately, but his ridiculously huge hockey jersey blocks whoever is facing him. The murmurs are too low for me to make out what’s being said, but loud enough for me to distinguish the tone is nothing short of furious.

Patiently leaning against the wall for the couple to wrap up their argument, I take a moment to study the dark liquid swirling inside my cup. The white plastic brings out the brown pigment in the beer, and I take a cautious sniff.

Disgusting.

Faint tremors trickle up my left side, a constant reminder of why I avoid this stuff. Beer. Alcohol. Substances that can impair judgement. Because at the end of the day it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Or someone ends up dead.

Or, in my case, both.

Pressing a hand against my side, the thick veins of my scar bulge up to meet my hand. If only memories could be washed away as easily as the beer in my cup.

A crash in the bathroom causes me to jump, and I look up to see Hunter storming back to wherever he came from. I hurry to help whoever got left behind and crash into the victim making his way out of the bathroom.

With a scream, I topple headfirst towards the toilet. Right before I can make contact with the porcelain bowl, steady hands reach out and halt my momentum. The calluses on said hands are rough against my skin and it takes all my will power not to sigh and lean further into the brick wall that saved me.

I know without looking up exactly who it is. I’ve seen these calluses get made day-after-day in the gym each morning.

“Better be careful there, Stel. Next time I might not be there to catch you.”

I scoff, taking a step away and breaking our embrace, “Please. We both know I do the heavy lifting around here.”

Cody lets out a laugh and crosses his arms in mock defence. The black t-shirt he’s wearing is nothing fancy but the way it pulls tight against his biceps is a trick Hunter should learn how to do.

I take in the familiar figure in front of me, the impossibly wide shoulders, the annoyingly sharp jawline that only softens on the rarest of occasions. Cody’s signature blonde fauxhawk stands tall and proud, giving him a couple of extra inches to his modest height. Not that Cody needs the extra inches, the guy is built like a brick shithouse.

He grins, “Guess it’s a good thing I’m allowed to lift again.”

Butterflies I choose to ignore take flight in my stomach as I put a fist on my hip and cock it out in challenge, “But you haven’t been lifting recently, now, have you?”

Dragging his gaze from the top of my head down to my argument-ready toes, Cody takes his sweet time bringing his molten brown eyes back up to mine.

“I got cleared to start tomorrow.” Oh.

My posture must reflect my defeat because a quirk of an eyebrow has Cody taking a confident step towards me.

“Noticed I’ve been away, hmm?” A trace of beer stains his breath but for some reason it no longer smells like the unappealing, murky liquid in my glass.

It smells like something I want to taste.

I feign disinterest, turning my back to him as I dump the beer down the sink and rinse out the plastic cup, “Honestly, I was more worried about your gains. You’ve probably lost them all by now.”

Turning around, I bite back a gasp. I hadn’t heard the varsity captain move, but somehow, he managed to sneak up behind me so now I am almost plastered against his chest.

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