Page 53 of All Twerk, No Play

Her body leaned heavily into me. She was barefoot, but even without her heels she was drunk enough to lose her balance. I could put her back on the couch, but worried that if I released her, she’d go back to Angry Victoria. Mopey Victoria wasn’t much better, but she let herself be comforted.

So I pivoted to sit on her couch and pulled her onto the cushion beside me, wrapping my arm around her shoulder. Her body coiled so tight, I wondered if she’d ever snuggled before. A moment of indecision flashed on her face before she swayed into the crook of my arm, her head slumping on my chest. Maybe it was just drunk exhaustion, but I counted it as my victory.

“When Alex asked me to start the business,” she murmured into my armpit, “he showed me a picture of me, him and Nick from ten years ago. He said it was the last time he was happy. He thought moving here could make us happy again …” A choking sound caught in her throat. My palm began a gentle stroke up and down her back. “He’s happy now, Cruz. He smiled so much when he told me he was marrying her.”

I handed her the water, and she twisted the glass before gulping the whole thing down. “He’s the only one who likes me.”

“That’s not true,” I said, taking the empty glass.

“You don’t know them,” she said, wiping her eyes with her palm. “Richard hates how I look, he can barely look at me without wincing.”

Ok, who the fuck was Richard and what was his problem? Even with tear-rimmed eyes and a runny nose, Victoria was still the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. I could barely look away.

I kept one hand on her back and slid my other into her tight fists to loosen them up, pulling our interlaced hands into my lap.

“Spencer’s dad hates me because I didn’t give a shit about his stupid legacy.” Her fingernails pressed into the palm of my hands. I relished the sting, like it could absorb a fraction of her pain. “Beverly hates me because I left her stupid brother, the dumb twat.”

I couldn’t bite back the laugh at her saying ‘twat,’ and she pushed a palm against my chest, twisting to face me. Her face scrunched up in an exaggerated disgust that could only be pulled off by the I-won't-remember-this-tomorrow-level drunk people.

“You think Alex is arrogant? You’d haaaaaate Spencer. He studied at Oxford so he fakes a British accent even though he grew up in New Fucking Jersey.” She spat out that state, rubbing her eye. “Dad said he’s in London now. Good fucking riddance.”

Her dad. So these people who supposedly hated her … they were her family?

“I thought I wouldn’t feel this way again. I thought Alex wanted what I wanted and we could keep things …” Her back straightened, those imploring silver eyes meeting mine. Her speech was still a little slurred, but came out quiet and serious. “Have you ever fallen in love, Eric?”

I shook my head, my gut churning.

“Don’t bother, it’s awful. Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” She slumped back into my shoulder while curling her legs into a tight ball, like all that toxicity drained the drunk right out. I almost didn’t hear her whisper, “Everybody hates me.”

“I like you."

She blew her lips, spit flying before she daintily brushed her mouth. “Doesn’t count, you like everybody.”

“Not true.”

“Name three people you don’t like.”

“Alex,” I said right away, and her laughter huffed a warm breath against my chest. “And I don’t know Richard or Beverly or Sawyer—”

“Spencer.”

“Whoever. He’s from Jersey, so I don’t like him.” A gross oversimplification, but it seemed to placate her. “Is he a Yankees fan?”

“They all are.”

“They’re dead to me,” I said flatly.

She laughed hoarsely, then sniffled. “They’re all better off without me, and so is Alex. He doesn’t love me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not allowed to fall in love.”

“Why the fuck not?” I said, suddenly as protective of her as I’ve ever been.

“I asked Richard once,” she leaned back enough for me to see her face, her eyes dropping shut and head lolling side-to-side against me, “on the Christmas that Beverly put a Weight Watchers membership in my stocking, I went into the office to escape. Richard was there too, probably also avoiding that harpy,” her mouth quirked into a mean grin and when I chuckled, it widened. “I asked him how he could possibly love her. He said, ‘Vickie, people like us can’t afford the luxury of falling in love.’”

“That’s bullshit. Love isn’t a luxury, it’s a choice. Nobody gets to decide that for you, Cobrita.”

“You don’t know how many people are watching me, waiting for me to fail.”

“You think a person can fail at falling in love?”

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