Page 117 of Fight or Flight
“Shane!” a round of voices shout as I step into Paxton’s room.
Our dorms at Silvercrest are massive, but the twenty or so people crammed into the space make this one feel small.
“He’s here!” Paxton announces and raises his glass with enthusiasm, splashing some of the dark amber liquid over the side and onto his hand.
“I’m here,” I say, putting on my best “I don’t give a fuck about anything” face, and close the door behind me.
“What’s your poison?” Dan asks, holding up two bottles.
From what I can tell, one of them is Goldschlager, and the other looks like either bourbon or whiskey.
“Whichever is the strongest.”
There’s a round of cheers, and Dan puts the bottles back on the coffee table and picks up one of the many others littering the surface.
“You want soda or juice as a mix?” he asks.
“Dealer’s choice.”
He grins and flicks his gaze to Cody. “Grab me a glass and the cranberry juice.”
“Do I look like your bar maiden?” Cody grumbles but gets up from the ridiculous settees we all have in our rooms.
“Don’t go giving our future leader any ideas,” Paxton says with a laugh and takes a sip of his drink. “Otherwise he’ll have all of us dressed up in Oktoberfest costumes next year.” He pantomimes having a pair of large breasts. “You know the ones.”
“Yeah, I’m not putting on anything like that,” Cody scoffs, an empty glass in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other. “Doesn’t matter who orders it. I’m not gonna do it.”
“Look at Mr. Brave over here,” Anthony, Paxton’s roommate and one of my casual friends, says with a laugh. “Like you wouldn’t shit your pants and instantly obey if Killian or the twins told you to put on a bar maiden costume.”
“I wouldn’t!” he insists, handing the glass and juice to Dan.
“Liar,” Dan says as he pours a healthy amount of juice into the glass. “You might have the balls to say no to Shane because, no offense, bro, but you’re like, the least scary person ever.” He flicks his gaze to me and recaps the juice.
“None taken,” I say dryly.
“But if Killian or the twins told you to take a dump and make a pie out of it, you’d ask them what temp to set the oven,” he says to Cody.
Loud, raucous laughter breaks out, but given how red Cody’s face is, and the murderous look on it, he’s less than amused.
“Maybe you would, but I have integrity.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Dan.
“So was it integrity that made you literally lie down in a puddle, unprompted, I might add, during Hell Week, so Jace and Jax could walk on your back and not get their shoes wet?” I ask, adding a bit of sweetness to my tone. “Or maybe it was your integrity that made you almost piss yourself when you thought you broke Killian’s favorite mug just before Christmas break?”
He pins me with a glare as the guys around us guffaw with laughter.
“Here ya go,” Dan says, adding a splash of whatever’s in the bottle he’s holding to the glass of juice.
“Thank you, darlin’,” I drawl as he hands it to me, but almost drop the damn thing as my fingers close around the cool glass. Jace really is starting to rub off on me, in more ways than one.
Someone else makes a crack at Cody’s expense, and I take a gulp of my drink and try to get my thoughts off Jace as everyone starts laughing again.
I have no idea what the drink is, but the slight burn from whatever alcohol is in it is all I care about, and I down the entire thing without pausing.
“More, please.” I hold my glass out to Dan.
He takes it with a laugh. “Someone’s thirsty.”
“It’s been a week,” I say mildly as he fixes me another drink.
