Page 99 of Overtime
“Pass.” I make a yuck face. “I can’t possibly do another beer-soaked cheese puff.”
“Okay, fair.”
“I’m in.” Amber scoots forward to dislodge herself from the depths of the couch. “Let’s find some Bolts and knock them down a peg.”
“Beautiful plan.” Ryan jumps to her feet, and they lace arms as they make their way to the kitchen to wage war on their ancestral enemy.
Christine offers her hand over to me. “Let’s go dance, Maddie.”
“Um, I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Not when sober, maybe.”
“Hmm. Good point.” Grinning, I grab her hand, and together, with stumbling feet, we round the couch to join the mass of people jumping to the beat of a ’90s classic.
I have no idea what I’m doing, so I try to copy Christine’s moves. Even though I’m nowhere near as graceful, I soon stop thinking about anything and just shake what my momma wishes she hadn’t given me.
The whole world could be watching and making fun of me, but I’m buzzed enough that I couldn’t care less. A pop song everyone knows plays next, and Christine and I sing along off-tune. My hair plasters to my sweat-coated skin, and I hope my makeup’s not running. But even if it is, I’m not stopping until this song ends.
My new friend and I sing to each other as if we’re recording a duet. Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I find Aran leaning against the wall by the kitchen, drinking from a beer bottle as he watches me.
A shiver racks through my whole body.
It’s annoying how his eyes alone have the power to incense me.
But he’s vanished by the time Christine and I finish dancing.
“Dayum, girl, you got moves.” Christine elbows me as we weave through the crowd toward the kitchen. “I caught like five people thirsting over you.”
“No way,” I say, breathless and unsteady with the dancing and shots.
“Yes way. One of them was a certain Bolts captain. What’s up with that?”
I’m glad she asks that while my back is turned to her. I keep pouring a cup of water and pretend the question doesn’t shock me.
When I turn around, I say, “Christine, you must be drunk. Have some water, girl.”
She smirks and pours herself some too. “I mean, if you wanna tap that, I don’t blame you. But you have more choices, is all I’m saying.”
I laugh awkwardly. “I don’t wanna tap anything tonight.”
“I’m sure that’s why you let me make you wear this dress tonight.” She waves a finger up and down my frame.
Tossing my empty cup into the overflowing trashcan, I rack my brain for an escape to this conversation, and nature presents me with the opportunity. After beer, shots, and water, a girl needs to heed nature’s call to the bathroom.
“I need to pee,” I declare as if that had been the topic of conversation.
“Actually, me too.”
Together, we wrestle through the throngs of people toward the bathroom beyond the corridor. But the line of people is so long, we make a U-turn and head for the stairs.
Meanwhile, I’ve turned into a freaking fan, just turning this way and that in hopes of finding a certain someone. Where the heck has he gone to hide? And is he alone so I can join him?
What if he’s not alone?
I half pay attention to the Strike’s chatter while we’re in line for the bathroom upstairs. A disheveled couple stumbles out of a bedroom with the look of having been up to no good. Heat travels up my body as the thought pops up unbidden in my mind.
That could’ve been Aran and me.
