Page 61 of Holly Freakin' Hughes

“Yeah?”I stopped at the doorway of my bedroom. Her slurred words suggested that shewas drunk.

“You’rea better kisser,” she giggled, and the very thought brought a stirring frombelow my waist. “OhGod, you’re awaybetter kisser. Ben sucks atkissing, and sex with him is soboring. If sex with you is anything likekissing you, then …”

Shebroke into a fit of giggles, and with that, my better judgement told me thatperhaps it would have been best to just stay home and continue my writing.Being at her house, I couldn’t guarantee she would behave herself, and therewas certainly no guarantee I’d have the willpower to stop her from trying.

But,I reminded myself, I was sober with my faculties intact, and it was now myresponsibility to keep her from getting hurt in some drunken accident.

Ithrew a t-shirt over my head and stuffed my feet into my boots. “Where am Igoing?”

***

Thehouse was dark aside from a small bit of blue light flashing in one window, andI parked the car at the curb before heading up the walkway. Before I could reachthe door and extend a fist to knock, Holly threw the door open and I couldn’tfight the smile that threatened the corners of my mouth at the sight of her inpajamas with the blanket tied around her neck like a cape.

“DoesHolly live here?” I asked, looking around her into the dark house. “She didn’ttell me she lived with Wonder Woman.”

Shegroaned, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the house, slamming the doorbehind us. “Do you want a drink? I think there’s something … somewhere. I wasgoing to save you some wine, but,” she held up the bottle, dangling from herhand, “Iacci-accidentedlydrank it all.”

Shespoke with purpose as her eyes blinked slowly, only opening halfway, and herbreath was heavy with the heated scent of alcohol. She reminded me of the girlsthat ventured out to find me in hotel bars, but I found my heart swelling withwarmth, not pity, and when she pulled me to the couch, I obeyed without asingle complaint. Nor did I complain when she sat next to me, or when sheimmediately pressed her head against my chest and wrapped an arm around mystomach.

“Howmuch, exactly, have you had to drink?” I asked, glancing around the dark roomfor any visible evidence.

“Mm-what?Oh, three beers and this bottle.” She held up the empty bottle of wine stillglued to her hand. “And there was another one, butshhh,don’t tell Liz.”

“Youdrank two bottles of wine?”

Sheheld a tired hand up with four fingers extended. “And three beers.”

Ifelt better about my decision to come as I curled an arm around her shoulders,and dared my hand to gently smooth the flyaway hairs from her rosy-cheekedface. She didn’t protest; hell, she didn’t say anything. I felt her breathesoftly against my chest, and for a few minutes I thought she had fallen asleepto the scene of Audrey and her companion Fake Fred spending the day together inNew York City. I allowed my hand the joy of stroking against the soft skin ofher cheek, running my fingers along the delicate line of her jaw as I fell intoa sense of relaxation—the one I only felt with her.

“Iwas named after her.” Her voice surprised me, and I moved my hand away hastily.“Don’t stop. It’s nice.” She spoke with surprising clarity, although sleepy,and I hesitated before resuming my fingers gentle stroking against the side ofher face.

“So,are your parents’ huge fans or something?” I asked, suddenly aware of how drymy throat was.

Shehummed a sleepy laugh that vibrated through my ribs. “This damn movie wasplaying while my mom was pushing me out and they hadn’t decided on a name forme yet. So, when I was out and the doctor was like, ‘Oh, it’s a girl,’and my dad was like, ‘Hey, what about Holly. That’s agreatgirl’s name!’”

“Itis,” I confirmed, trailing my fingers from her jaw to her temple and backagain. “Have you always wanted something from Tiffany’s too?”

Hollymoved to lay her head in my lap, and looked up at me. Her arms pulled one ofmine to her chest, hugging it to her. I had to bite my lip, to keep my thoughtsfrom drifting to the more impure corners of my mind, and I hoped my tortureddiscomfort would go unnoticed.

“WhenI was in college, right,allthe girls had these bracelets fromTiffany’s. I thought about getting one, but then I was like, fuck it, becauseif I got something fromTiffany’s, it would have to be special, right? Imean, it’s fucking Tiffany’s!” Her eyes widened with enthusiasm and she waitedfor a reaction from me, so I nodded my agreement. “Like aringorsomething. Tiffany’s makesbeautifulen-engagementrings. Have you everseenthem?”

“Ican’t say I have,” I said gently. An image of the glittering diamond ring I hadbought for Julia popped into my mind at the thought, but it didn’t matter.

“OhmyGod, youhaveto! I used to go online and just browse forhours, and I would point at them and look at Stephen and be like, hey, buy thatfor me. But fuck, he could never afford that shit, right? Do you thinkhehas a Tiffany’s engagement ring? That’d be perfect, right? Then he really couldhave everything, and I get … nothing.”

Icaught myself staring at her with her stray hairs fanned out against my plaidthighs. She gazed beyond me towards the ceiling as she spoke, her eyes mistingwith the influence of her night of solo drinking. Her skin was porcelainperfect in the dim glow of the television, not a blemish or bump to be seen,and I found myself reminiscing to the first time I had laid eyes on her. Thatfaraway moment when I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me, and I wanted hermore than I needed her. I never would have expected to find myself there on hersister’s couch, watching over her in her drunken state, and still wanting hermore than I needed her.

Butthen again, I needed her more than anything.

“HeyBrandon?” she asked, pulling me from my thoughts. Her eyes focused back on me,the pain in her eyes making itself known.

“Yeah?”I asked, wishing I could have pulled that pain out of her soul and carried itwith me instead.

“Doyou think I’ll ever get married?” she asked me, her chin quivering just a bit.The hand belonging to the arm she clung to came up to rest against her cheek.

“Ofcourse I think you’ll get married,” I insisted. My opposite elbow found acomfortable spot on the armrest of the couch and I rested my cheek against myfist. “Why do you ask?”

Sheshrugged. “Why don’t I want to marry Ben?”

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