Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
Gerri went out back to get more peanuts.
He followed so they could continue their argument about who broke into Gerri’s car on the night of her sixteenth birthday party.
Nick heard it was a freshman on a dare; Gerri was convinced it was Jasper wanting his lighter back.
Somehow, this turned into the two of them making out in the stockroom, making Nick very happy he hadn’t puked before.
It was . . . fine. Gerri was soft and lithe and familiar. She kissed the same as he remembered, aggressive and a bit too bitey, no matter how many times he told her to cool it.
Gerri was giggling at first, sliding a leg between his thighs and sucking on his neck as he pushed her back against the shelves and toyed with her wings.
Then Nick said something, he wasn’t sure what—he’d been mumbling a constant stream of didn’t even know Jasper smoked in high school, I hated smoking in high school, do you think Vi Harper ever smoked—and the giggles stopped.
Gerri leaned back, catching his nose before he could lean back in.
“Hon,” she said, surprisingly gentle. “You’re pretty damn drunk.”
Nick frowned. “’M not that bad.”
“Nick, how many times have you been drunk?”
“Six,” he declared. Then he paused. “Seven? Less than ten.”
Gerri let his nose go and patted his cheek. “Remember the last time?”
Nick cringed instinctively. That was on the tenth anniversary of his mother’s death. He remembered all of that night, unfortunately. Including crying in Gerri’s lap while she stroked his hair.
“You got pretty wasted that night,” Gerri said. “But I think this is the drunkest I’ve ever seen you. Must be pretty bad to get you this upset.”
“I’m not upset,” Nick replied.
Gerri hummed, straightening her wings. “I stopped sleeping with men who want to use me when they want something to regret the next morning. I’m not a regret, Nick.
I’m a fun time, and with some lucky guy, I’m gonna be even more than that.
” She patted his cheek again. “But that’s not you, bud. Go home. Sleep it off.”
Nick nodded drunkenly. It sounded like a good idea.
He could go home, settle into that divot in his couch he’d been working at for the past ten years, and watch ’80s movies until he fell asleep.
And maybe puke beforehand, because . . .
yeah, this might be the drunkest he’d ever been. It did not feel good.
He walked out and found Jasper.
“I think I need to go home,” he announced.
“What? Come on, the night’s just—” Jasper stopped as soon as he saw Nick’s face. “Whoa. Yeah, okay, bud. Let’s get you home.”
* * *
Nick left his beloved motorcycle at the bar and walked, Jasper steadying him with an arm around his shoulders.
“Thank fuck for vampire strength,” Jasper said as Nick staggered. “Buddy, you are trashed.”
“She used to call me buddy,” Nick croaked. He squinted at the spinning streets and groaned. He should have listened to Heath, who had tried to talk them out of drinking wolfsbane for their last round.
He took a wonky left into the next street, dragging Jasper with him.
“Slow down,” Jasper said. “Slowly, slowly, catchy chimera. How does that go?”
“I have no idea what you just said,” Nick told him, then stumbled.
Jasper steadied him again with a sigh. “You’re gonna feel even worse tomorrow, man. Those last shots were a joke. I didn’t think you’d actually— Hey, where are we? We were supposed to turn down that street, right?”
Nick grunted, walking faster.
Jasper hurried to keep his arm around Nick’s shoulders, peering at the houses around them. “What neighborhood is this? This isn’t the way to your house.”
“Nope,” Nick said, and then burped.
He came to a stop in front of a familiar garden gate. He pulled at it.
It stayed closed. There was some complicated lock thing that would probably be a lot less complicated in daylight and sobriety, but Nick had neither right now, so he kept pulling. He was an orc. He could break one flimsy lock.
Then an even stronger pair of hands was closing around his shoulders, yanking him back.
“Let’s not add breaking and entering to tonight’s list of bad decisions,” Jasper slurred. He squinted at the gate. “Whose house is this?”
Nick stood back, cupping his hands around his mouth. “VIOLET!”
Jasper swore, looking around at the dark street of houses.
Nick ignored him, yelling louder. “I COULD BE BETTER! I COULD BE BOYFRIEND MATERIAL! I COULD BE SOMEONE YOU LIKE!”
“For the love of—” Jasper grabbed Nick around the middle, ignoring Nick’s mumbled protests to quit touching his stomach, so he wouldn’t puke. He wrestled Nick back onto the street.
“You’re being an idiot,” Jasper hissed as he struggled to keep him back. “Don’t do this. You’ll hate yourself later!”
Nick flailed out with his elbow. It caught Jasper in the cheek and he cursed, jerking sideways. His grip loosened enough for Nick to break free.
He cupped his hands around his mouth once more. “VI!”
Jasper tackled him. Nick’s knees hit the street, stinging even through his jeans. His face followed, rough against the asphalt.