Chapter 8
Liam
My head is spinning as I open the doors to a nightclub at the base of the mountain. I’d hoped the icy walk down here would help clear my head, but it didn’t do much. It was, however, much farther than I anticipated.
I can’t get the look on Damon’s face as I told him I was leaving out of my mind. I hate that I hurt him, but what about me?
How could he not have told me that he talked to his brother? And not only talked to him, but made up with him? Fucking forgave him!
The flashing strobe lights, loud music, and wall of bodies remind me of the European après-ski parties, and I wind my way to the bar, trying to get lost in the atmosphere.
The people-watching is fantastic and works to clear my head for about twenty minutes, but after three shots, the noise is too loud, the space too cramped, and the air smells too rancid with stale sweat.
I’m about to call it a night when a gorgeous woman with dark hair and dark eyes plants her elbows next to me on the bar.
“Are you here alone?” she asks over the music.
My fourth shot is delivered while she’s standing next to me, so I hold eye contact as I throw the shot back before nodding my head.
Her fire-engine-red lips curl into a smile as she takes my hand, pulling me to the dance floor.
I don’t even know her name, but she wastes no time pressing her body close to mine, rolling her hips into me. I keep up with her easily because I love to dance, and she lets me take the lead as soon as she realizes I know my way around a dance floor.
The intimacy of a dance is second nature to me. It’s basically sex with clothes on, and I never have problems in that department. But tonight, it feels off. Like I’m just going through the motions. I don’t feel the release and the rhythm like I normally do when I go out.
After three songs, my buzz really starts kicking in—which obviously means I need another shot to keep the party going.
Grabbing her hand, I pull her off the floor toward the bar.
“You want a lemon drop?” I ask, choosing my favorite sweet treat.
Her smile is bright. “Can I have two?”
“Great idea!” I tell her with a smile of my own before placing an order for four lemon drop shots.
She stands between my legs with her back to the bar while we wait.
Reaching up to cup the back of my neck, she pulls me down to meet her lips. The gesture immediately reminds me of earlier, when Damon made the same move to touch our foreheads together.
Fuck, I do not want to be thinking about him right now.
But once I do, I can’t fucking stop.
Is he okay? Is he looking for me? What could he possibly have to say that will make this better? What if it doesn’t get better? What if I demanded too much from him when I forced him to choose between his twin brother and me?
I feel the stranger’s tongue in my mouth and try to really lean into it, kissing her back with fervor, but I’m reminded of that stupid watermelon kissing critique, and pull back.
It’s only on my mind because we were just talking about it.
“Everything okay?” the very attractive woman asks.
“What’s your name?” I look at her with question marks in my eyes.
“Allison.”
“Allison, I’m Liam. I’m in a rough spot tonight, and can’t promise much, but if you wanna get drunk with me, I’d love the company. I’m buying.”
“Who am I to turn that offer down?” With our plan in place, we move down the bar where two stools just opened up, and the bartender places our shots in front of us.
Neither of us is looking to die tonight, so we stop at three shots apiece and consume them over the course of an hour and a half. Of course, that’s on top of the four I’ve already had, so I’m definitely drunk.
I realize I didn’t think this through when, after paying, I slide off my stool, offering to walk Allison back to her room, condo, house, or wherever she’s staying, and the bar spins like crazy.
I’m talking Tilt-A-Whirl level spinning. The colors are all blending together, and everyone is just a fuzzy blob of bodies.
“Shiiit.” I laugh, gripping Allison’s arm to steady myself. “Think I might’ve overdone it.”
She laughs back, but seems less drunk than me. I don’t know how that can be, though. I have to weigh at least one hundred pounds more than this girl.
“Come on, let’s take the resort bus. I’m pretty sure it can get us both where we need to go.” She’s laughing just as hard as I am, and I follow her out, reveling in how nice it feels to meet new people and know strangers can still have decent interactions with one another.
During our shot-fest, I’d admitted to Allison that I’m feeling betrayed by Damon, and I was nervous about what our conversation would reveal.
She admitted she and her boyfriend were going through a ‘rough patch’ and taking a break, and although they’d agreed they could see other people during the break, she realized tonight that she wasn’t ready to follow through.
It was the most wholesome interaction I’ve ever had with someone outside of Damon.
Which is why her words are ringing through my ears as I try to get the numbers on the keypad right to get in the damn door.
‘Is there any chance he kept it from you because he knew it would cause you pain, and he wanted to avoid that as long as possible?’
I mean, yes…probably.
But it still doesn’t eradicate the sting of betrayal. Nonetheless, I’m way too drunk now to think it through or have any helpful interaction. I just want to get to bed and sleep this off. I already know I’m going to have the hangover from hell in the morning.
After my fifth failed attempt, I pound my fist on the door.
Damon sleeps like the dead, but I’ll be dead if I have to stay out here all night.
I raise my fist to pound again when the porch lights flicker on, and I hear the deadbolt get thrown.
When Damon rips the door open, he looks as rough as I feel. His eyes are red and swollen, his skin is blotchy, and he’s wearing…
“Iss tha my shirt?” I slur, causing him to look down.
“Um, yeah,” he confirms, not bothering to take it off or offer an explanation as to why he’s wearing it. In my drunken state, though, it makes me feel tingly.
Or maybe that’s the shots.
“Okay,” I say, swaying as I make my way into the cabin. My foot catches on the lip of the doorframe, though, and I crash into Damon, who cannot support my body weight, and we topple to the floor with a thud.
I lie there for a minute, dazed, and too drunk to get up.
“Li, are you okay?” Damon asks from beneath me.
I manage to grunt, but that’s it. The floor is actually pretty nice. It somehow molded to my body, and I’m pretty comfortable. Think I’ll just sleep right here.
“Li, you’ve gotta move. As much as I love being under you like this, you’re fucking heavy when you’re dead weight.”
There’s something in that sentence my brain wants to hold on to, something tickling the edges of my awareness, but my current drunken state can’t latch on to it. When I feel Damon’s hands on my chest, I roll to the side.
This part of the floor is much harder.
“Come on, Li. Let’s get you to bed.”
I’m pretty sure Damon’s voice could pull me out of a coma. With my eyes still closed and my movements totally uncoordinated, I manage to get vertical with his help.
A few moments later, I feel tugging and pulling, and I think I’m on my back, then I’m sitting up, then I’m on my back again, only to sit up once more.
“I’m pretty sure these are just going to come back up in an hour, but try to swallow this Advil if you can.”
There’s something pressing against my lips, and I really don’t know what it is, but I hear Damon’s voice, and I know he’ll take care of me. So, I open my mouth and let whatever’s there slip inside.
“Open again,” he commands before filling my mouth with water. “Liam, I need you to swallow those without choking, okay? Concentrate, and then you can sleep.”
I manage to get only a little water down the wrong pipe. I sputter and cough for a second, but it settles quickly. Then something brushes across my forehead, and I swear the last words I hear before I black out are, “Please don’t hate me. I love you.”