Page 20 of Phantom Faceoff
His pained moan hits my skin, followed by a slurred, “not even a little.”
Despite how badly I want to move, I keep us both still.
“You’re going to need a hospital’s worth of Tylenol and water to get through tomorrow’s hangover.”
“Honestly,” he grumbles, slow and quiet, “I’m surprised you’re letting me see tomorrow.”
“I’m feeling generous.”
He laughs, and it shakes his whole body. “Thanks, Daddy.”
My skin prickles, then lights on fire. Heat rushes through my body, filling my cheeks andotherparts of me.
What the hell?
Awkward as it is, I always get a hit of satisfaction when Julian addresses me like that.
But this? Zander’s ragged voice and full body weight on top of me?
Something stirs in my chest, and I use all of my will power to bury it down as deep as it will go.
“Shut up, puckhead.”
I don’t know what Julian has told him, or if he overheard us sometime, but he’s drunk enough it likely won’t matter in the morning.
“We need to sober you up.” I slip a hand between us to press on his chest, not hard, but a nudge to get him into motion.
He grunts, plants his hands on the wall above my head, and pushes himself up. With him hovering over me now we’re no longer touching.
The cool, night air brushes my heated skin, and with each breath it slowly returns to normal.
The lack of contact clears my head of all the nonsense the last few minutes filled it with, and as Zander regains the balance to stand without the support of the wall, I hold my hand out.
He stares at me with an unfocused gaze and frowns.
“Phone,” I say with a sigh. “So I can call you a ride.”
His mouth opens in a silent “Oh”. He pats his pockets, fumbles to grasp and pull the device out, and sets it in my hand.
It clicks open upon contact, and I’m glad I don’t have to struggle getting the passcode out of him.
“Who has a car and would be able to come get you?”
The cogs in his brain turn, and a multitude of emotions play over his features, difficult to read in the dark.
While he puzzles it out, I scroll through his messages for an obvious choice, and pause at a familiar conversation.
Buzzkill
TSMWEL is a masterpiece. I refuse to accept this slander. Try again.
The jerk had left me on read with a laughing emoji, and I hadn’t bothered to follow up because someone who calls a deeply emotionally cutting song “boring and repetitive” doesn’t deserve acknowledgment.
Buzzkill? Really?
I’ll be sure to give him hell about that once he’s sober.
His roommate’s name pops up, and one look at Zander tells me he’s losing his fight with the alcohol. So, I tap the name and hit the call button.
