Page 88 of Alive At Night

“I was drunk when I said that,” I pointed out flatly.

“Still the best damn advice I’ve ever gotten.”

Grayson was a confident fuck in college. Not cocky, but definitely confident. His natural talent and good looks afforded him every opportunity. Scholarships and women all but fell in his lap. For the most part—besides the whole heart defect thing—he got exactly what he wanted.

Except Nessa.

Nessa made him work for it. She made him prove himself on the practice field before giving him playing time. But this was far from the same situation.

“I’m not trying to get playing time,” I said.

“You’re not?”

“I can’t.”

That had never been an option.

Wholly unconvinced, Grayson folded his arms over his chest. “Well, I hope Juniper knows that. She seems nice, and Nessa is already attached, so don’t hurt her.”

“Stop.” Grayson warningmeabout not hurting Juniper made my hands ball into fists. “I’m not going to hurt her. She knows it isn’t like that. She wanted to be here with Noah, not me.”

“Yeah, Nessa told me that.” He crossed his legs, shifting in his seat. “It made me curious, so I texted him.”

“Who, London?”

Grayson nodded.

And then he fucking smirked.

“What?”

“We got shots!” Nessa’s voice interrupted whatever Grayson was about to spill. The arrival of a handful of small glasses followed her announcement. She placed them on the table between Grayson and me.

“You can’t drink, my little whiskey girl,” Grayson said dryly. His expression appeared split between amusement and concern as he pulled Nessa onto his lap.

“Okay, we gotyoushots.”

“I don’t drink,” Grayson pointed out, smile inching upward.

Nessa glared back at Grayson. “Would you just—”

“I don’t think shots are a good idea,” I cut in, turning to talk to Juniper specifically. But it was too late. She was already tossing one shot after another down her throat.

When she went to grab a third, I snatched it from her hand.

“Hey now,” she chastised, eyes glittering. “Nessa tells me you were the life of the party in college, and suddenly you think shots are a bad idea?”

I slowly lifted the shot glass to my lips while keeping my eyes on her over the rim. Tipping it back, I let the burn of alcohol slide down my throat. Juniper watched. Her gaze on me added to the burn.

“They are when you barely eat dinner,” I muttered after slamming the empty glass back on the table.

Juniper rolled her eyes, and it sparked something inside me. I was surprisingly grateful for that attitude. She was coming back into the version of herself I recognized, and I liked to believe it was because of more than the alcohol. Maybe getting things off her chest earlier had helped. Maybe I’d convinced her that we were meant to be here, both of us.

“I’ll be fine, Julian.”

She sounded like she was trying to reassure me about more than just the drinks, and goddamnit, she shouldn’t be reassuring me. It should be the other way around.

“No more,” I warned.

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