Page 57 of Counterfeit Boyfriend
Gwen shrugged. “He didn’t suddenly make an impressive transformation or anything, and honestly I feel kind of stupid for ever thinking he was my soulmate, but I guess I have more of a sense of closure.”
“But not with Paige,” I said, noticing the steady stare aimed our way. Paige tried to play it off, but she wasn’t fast enough at averting her gaze.
“No. I don’t know if that’s something I’ll ever feel with her.”
“You want to talk to her?”
“I will eventually—that was part of what Kyle wanted to talk to me about. When she and I do finally hash it out, it’s going to be one of those emotionally draining talks with lots of tears, and I just…” Gwen’s hand came up on the side of my face. “I want to enjoy being all dressed up at this fancy party with you. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay.” I tapped my chest. “Here for whatever you need, remember?”
“In that case, I could really use a drink.”
“Done.”
I grabbed us a couple of drinks and then the food arrived. I grilled the server about their use of peanuts, and while Gwen looked at me like I was being over-the-top, I didn’t care. Once they’d double checked with the kitchen she was safe, we dug in.
The courses came in waves, as did the accompanying speeches from people in the wedding party. Paige told a story about how she, Madison, and Gwen had gone for a joyride in Madison’s dad’s new truck. They’d gotten stuck in a muddy field and Kade and Kyle came to bail them out in the middle of the night.
“The sparks were flying as fast and high as the mud,” Paige said. “And I knew right then they were meant for each other. Knew just like her dad somehow knew we’d taken his truck, in spite of us scrubbing it down till three in the morning. Kade had to wait an entire month for Madison to be ungrounded so he could ask her out, and she told him that she was already booked for a month solid.”
People chuckled, and Gwen squeezed my hand under the table.
Then she downed her drink and chased that with mine, so I went to get us another round.
“Ooh, thank you!” Gwen said when I handed over the drink. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her words were starting to slur together. “Cheers!” Her glass clanked against the one in my hand, and then she tipped it to her lips. When I didn’t copy the move, she frowned at me. “You know ‘cheers’ means drink, right?”
I leaned forward, sliding my hand around to cup the back of her knee and locking eyes with her. “Just making sure you’re good.”
“I am. Open bar rocks, am I right?” She patted my thigh, rather high, and I was acutely aware of her leaving her hand there. “Usually I’m the one who’s cautious and responsible and you’re the one drinking too much.”
“Tonight I’ll be the responsible one.”
Her lower lip stuck out in an over-the-top pout. “I want you to go on a brain vacation with me. Let’s get a little sloppy. Thanks to the fact we get to stay in a room at the resort tonight, we don’t have to worry about a designated driver, and it’s the closest to an all-expenses paid brain vacation we can get.” Her fingers twitched on my thigh, causing another part of me to twitch, too. “I want to take that vacation with you. We have to get serious about life and jobs and your career and all that other shit as soon as tonight ends, so let’s make this last night of our road trip an epic one.”
How could I argue with that logic when it fit so well with what I wanted? I lifted my glass. “To an epic night!”
With a tiny squeal, Gwen clinked her glass to mine, and then we both downed the contents of our glasses…
A light buzz was my original goal, but Gwen and I came up with a game that involved drinking whenever someone said the words “bride”, “groom”, “connection”, or “perfect for each other” and things turned slightly out of control.
Our tablemates joined in about halfway through, Gwen’s bubbly, giggly demeanor drawing them right in. Soon people were casting longing glances our way, as if they regretted not being at the fun table.
Okay, we got a few admonishing glares as well, but we were too drunk and laughing too hard to pay them much mind. At one point, the bride and groom even came over to do a shot with us.
Madison insisted Gwen try to catch the wedding bouquet, and I about fell to the ground laughing when her not-even-close attempt to catch the bouquet sent several women down like bowling pins.
Apparently, we were on the same wavelength, because when she spun to face me, she threw her fists in the air and shouted “Strike!”
“You forgot a spare,” I said, jerking my chin toward the woman who’d caught the bouquet.
Gwen shrugged, then threw her arms around me—nearly knockingmeover—as she fused her mouth to mine. Desire and alcohol were the perfect combo to get rid of those pesky thoughts I’d been having. I couldn’t quite remember what they were, but I remembered they were a buzzkill, so good riddance.
We were coerced into doing the chicken dance with the bridal party, where I mostly watched Gwen do a version that involved half the regular steps, plus occasionally using my body as a stripper pole. She slid up and down and worked me into a lust-fueled tornado—when the girl let go, she really let go.
Honestly, it’d been a long time since I’d let go, too. I let myself touch her as much as I wanted to, whether it was winding my fingers through her hair, or dragging my fingers across the line of her collarbone, or letting my lips do the touching.
Of course, even though there was plenty of other types of touching I wanted to do, I wasn’t wasted enough to ignore social etiquette and breach PG-13 levels. My mind constantly spun with images that pushed into R-rated territory, though.
