Page 15 of Wasted Memories
Her physical appearance and the way she held herself gave the impression that she only cared about herself and her image, but if I had to guess after what she just confessed, she didn’t give a damn about any of that on the inside.
“You don’t talk much, huh?” She was staring up at me, her hair all messed up.
“Sometimes people just need someone to sit and listen, and right now I think you’re one of those people.”
She moved her gaze to the black water, deep in thought.
“I need another beer.”
My mouth lifted at the corners. “Well, let’s make that happen.” If I was stuck here and she wanted to have fun, the least I could do was make sure she was being safe about it.
She took my hand and brought me over to a blue cooler propped against the logs of wood surrounding the bonfire.
“You sound like you could use a drink, too.” She grabbed two and held the second one out to me.
“I’m alright.” I grabbed the beer and set it back in the cooler, closing the lid.
She pinned me with her eyes. “Do youeverdrink?”
I nodded. “I do, but-”
She cut me off. “No buts, Wesley Barton.” I tried to hide the smile that pulled at my lips knowing she’d remembered my name. “When we wake up tomorrow, everything from this moment is going to be a memory. Don’t you want to make every day memorable, instead of playing it so damn safe all the time?” She paused like she didn’t know what words just came out of her mouth, then made her way to the log closest to us, taking a seat. I didn't need booze to live in the moment. If anything, alcohol made you forget some of the greatest moments of your life if you over indulged.
She took her sweatshirt off, laying it next to her on the log. She was left in a tank top that hugged her in all the right places. I tried not to noticeably look but found it difficult keeping my eyes off her.
She must be ten drinks past drunk if being in a tank top out here felt better than the wet sweatshirt. She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze locked on the flames. “It’s cold and I’m tired and I’m pretty sure alcohol is the only thing keeping me warm right now.”
As if on cue, a guy came stumbling over with a handle of vodka. “Oh, Em, you do this to yourself.” He held the bottle up like he was about to pour it over her head.
“Oh, come on, Todd. I’m vodka’ed out.” She threw her hands out, looking up at him from where she sat.
He shrugged. “I didn’t make the rules.”
Before she could tilt her head back, I stepped between them, causing Todd to stumble back a step. “She said she’s done.”
“Technically, I said I’m vodka’ed out," she pointed out quietly behind me right before she hiccupped.
“Hey, man, I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them. Can’t have fun if you’re complaining, can you?” He went to move around me but I angled my body to block his way.
“Peer pressuring someone to drink isn’t a good look, Todd. I’d suggest you walk away.”
Emerson stood up behind me, but she must have tripped because she set both of her hands on my back to steady herself. I reached a hand behind me, setting it on her waist to keep her upright.
I could feel her cold skin through the fabric of her top. I took my jacket off and turned to face her, wrapping it around her shoulders. I looked over my shoulder to see Todd walking away.
She wrapped my jacket tighter around her, staring up at me with those damn eyes as her teeth chattered. “He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’s right, it’s a rule we have at our bonfires. He was just going along with it.”
“Sounds like a pretty stupid rule to me.”
“It is if you’re Wesley Barton.” God, I loved the way her mouth looked when she said my name.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re a party pooper, like I suspected,” Stella interrupted, coming to stand next to Emerson. Stella looked at the sweatshirt draped over the log, then moved her gaze to my jacket on Emerson, putting the pieces together. “Smooth move,” she commended.
Emerson shot her a look that screamed “shut up.”
“What? I just meant Jett-“
