Page 118 of Fight or Flight
“Hey, Shane?”
“Yeah?” I glance over at Allen, another “friend” in the sense that he’s friends with my friends.
“If you’re gonna be one of the leaders next year, does that mean you can change the room assignments for us?” he asks hopefully. “You name the price and I’ll pay it if you can get me a single.” He smirks. “Living with this loser has really put a damper on my social life, if you know what I mean.” He hooks his thumb at his roommate, who’s sitting across the room and typing something into his phone.
“Trust me when I say that having a roommate isn’t your problem,” I tell him as Dan hands me a fresh drink. “But I’m happy to take your money if you can figure out a way to go back in time and become a founding legacy.”
That was probably a low blow considering I’m the only one in the room with founding legacy status, but whatever. It’s not like I’m wrong.
Allen shoots me a flat look, but a bunch of the other guys laugh, so at least my joke landed. I toast him with my drink and down the entire thing in one go again.
It’s a bit stronger than the first one, but the balance of tart juice and gentle alcohol burn makes it easy to forget why I should pace myself.
Thankfully, the door swings open, pulling everyone’s attention from me as they cheer and shout as someone walks into the room with a bag of ice under one arm and a growler of something in his other hand.
Instead of getting Dan to make me another drink, I head over to Paxton’s desk to take a look at the options. There are the usual suspects like vodka, rum, tequila, whiskey, bourbon, and various kinds of liqueurs and schnapps, but also some sake, a few types of wine, and what looks like jungle juice. I settle on a vodka soda and stick close to the desk because I know this won’t be my last drink before we head over to The Crypt.
The mood is light in the room, and everyone is smiling and having a great time, but the dark clouds that have been hovering over me only get heavier and harder to ignore the longer I’m there. And it takes most of my self-control to not chug as many drinks as I need to in order to stop feeling things.
“Ready to head out?” someone asks after what feels like hours.
I look up from my drink, and the slight spin to the room and the way I sway a bit on my feet tells me my mission was accomplished. Hello Buzzville, next stop Drunktown.
I snicker at how ridiculous I’m being and shoot back the rest of my drink. I think that’s number four, but it could be my fifth.
I pause and cycle through my memories. Nope, that’s definitely the sixth.
I think.
“You good?” Paxton asks and slaps me on the shoulder.
“Right as rain, darlin’.” I motion at the door and the line of people filing through it. “Lead the way.”
The world is getting fuzzy as I follow Paxton out of his room, and I’m blissfully numb with just a hint of the giggles as we troop down the hall and to the stairs.
The cool night air helps sober me up a bit, but only enough so I can walk the mile and a half to The Crypt without tripping over anything.
Everyone is laughing and joking and making hookup predictions for the night, but I mostly tune them out. I’m here for drinks and distraction, and the last thing I’m even thinking about is hooking up.
I pause as it occurs to me that that’s weird, but whoever is behind me gives me a little push, and I start walking again.
Usually there are three things I gravitate toward when I’m like this: booze, drugs, and sex. And typically, my goal is to have all three of them at once.
Tonight I’m all about the booze and drugs, but even the thought of going through the motions and finding a girl to hook up with is about as appealing as wiping my ass with poison ivy.
“Because the idea of spending my time trying to wrangle a bunch of entitled frat boys is about as appealing as wearing a condom made of poison ivy.”
Fuck.
Why did I have to think about Jace and his stupid mouth right now?
No, not his mouth. His words.
I’m definitely not thinking about his mouth.
Or about how much I want to feel it wrapped around my dick again.
“Careful,” Dan steadies me as I trip over my feet. “You good?”
