25. Rose #2
An hour after she got the latest text from Preston, she and Kirin made it to the kitchen of the Senior House.
Or that’s what Kirin called it. Evidently, several senior football players and a couple of underclassmen lived there, so the house always traded hands within the team.
Somehow, in the time it took them to wade through the bodies celebrating the start of Homecoming Week, the house had gone from overflowing to bursting at the seams. For once, she was relieved to arrive in the kitchen to find an island of alcohol.
On their way in, she’d gotten the odd splash of beer from a few of the girls they’d edged around in search of their group.
Kirin wrapped a protective arm around her waist. She leaned into him.
She’d been pregaming when he arrived, doing whatever she could to drown out the dread threatening to tug her into a funk.
When Kirin came to pick her up, he found her standing at the counter two minutes after she slammed two shots of Ainsley’s good tequila.
She’d decided one shot was barely going to touch her, but three might end up with her facedown on the floor.
Two gave her a better shot at living her best life for the evening.
Under other circumstances, she might be worried about what would happen to her, but Kirin had stood up for her against his own sister, had come to bat for her repeatedly, and somehow she knew getting sloshed would not break that streak.
She glanced toward the living room and then out the kitchen windows to the backyard, where steam curled from the pool into the cool air.
There were plenty of people outside talking around the fire or dancing to the music.
Blessedly, Kirin didn’t say anything as she filled a cup with ice and poured herself a cup of a pre-mixed cocktail.
He looked at her, as if hunting for the reasoning, but again, he said nothing, just as he had said nothing when he found her cleaning the shot glass at the apartment.
Instead, he reached around her to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle before sliding his hand into hers.
Drinks in hand, they migrated toward the beer pong tables tucked around the back of the house, where Harrison and Leon were trying their best to beat a couple of frat boys.
They lost all but one of their three games, trying and failing to get Kirin to join in.
His arm stayed secured around her waist, his head resting on the top of hers as he waved his best friends off.
All night, people came up to him, raving about their chances against Westmont.
Every mention of her former school and the reminder she would be on the same campus as Preston for the first time in a year had her taking another drink from her cup.
Kirin didn’t let anyone ignore her. If the conversation went on too long about football or their prospects, he’d switch topics and draw her in.
Sometimes that would lead to praising her for her successes.
Other times, it was asking her opinion on whatever topic he picked to shift the conversation.
But now, having made their rounds for the last hour and a half, they were back outside watching Ainsley and Harper challenge Harrison in flip-cup. The world was wavy, and her body was comfortably warm. Her laughter came easily when Harrison failed at flip-cup three times in a row.
She hummed when Kirin pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder so he could kiss her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, and he stiffened behind her.
He rubbed a hand down her side. “You had at least one shot of tequila before I picked you up. And you poured a heavy-handed cup of Mexican Mudslide, which you’ve refilled since we got here.”
When she didn’t respond, he let out a breath. “Tell me what’s wrong, Rose.”
She should tell him about that last couple of texts, but she was still processing, and facing this in the middle of a party while she was drunk sounded like the worst idea in the world.
But the prospect of having to see Preston wasn’t something she’d really considered when she and Kirin got involved.
She’d had no intention of attending the Homecoming game, and Preston wouldn’t be playing for Westmont next year.
One game had seemed easy enough to avoid, but now she had to consider Kirin.
Kirin would tell her to stay home, but the thought of not being there to support him during his final Homecoming game seemed wrong.
But even from a distance, she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle it.
He’d be closer to her than he had been in nearly a year.
And she wanted Kirin focused on the game, not worrying about how she was handling seeing her ex on a field a few hundred yards away.
He’d get all protective. It was endearing as hell and remarkable that Kirin knew she was lying from one comment. Somehow, he already knew her better than anyone she’d ever dated.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” she whispered in his ear, and he nodded, his hand reaching out to trail over her side when she stepped away and swayed a bit.
She knew there was a bathroom upstairs off the master, so she made her way up there. It took her longer as she swayed, and she had to wait when the three couples in front of her took their sweet time.
By the time she made it back downstairs, Kirin was leaning against the wall. His face was darker than she was used to seeing as he stood alone. He was in his head, and she suspected it was about her.
He didn’t see her when she got back downstairs, so she said, “With the number of couples that came out of that bathroom before I could get in there, it probably looks like a Jackson Pollock.”
She leaned into him, and he laughed, though it was little more than a few breaths against the side of her face. “I think it’s always looked like that.”
“Is that why black lights aren’t a thing in college?” she joked, earning another strained laugh.
“I doubt anyone hires a cleaner after every party.” He shrugged, but it didn’t dispel the worry tensing his shoulders as he leaned forward and breathed her in.
She tried to be indifferent to it, but damn if she didn’t lean in, leaving less than an inch between them when his hand slid around her waist and cradled her hip, his thumb stretching to graze across her exposed skin again.
It felt like she’d been thrown into a furnace. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”
Those words were like a bucket of ice water being thrown over her.
“Can we just…” She sighed and turned to him. “Can we please just drink and dance tonight?”
“Will you tell me tomorrow?” he asked, with no lightness in his expression as his eyes searched her face, and she felt that lead weight pulling her down again.
She would have to explain tomorrow. He deserved it.
But a few more drinks would ease the oncoming stress, and at least she knew Kirin wouldn’t let anyone touch her.
It was a different kind of protection being with him.
Above all, he wanted her safe. It wasn’t an ownership thing, even with the way they liked to claim one another.
And she was confident he would slap anyone’s phone down if they tried to take photos of her.
“Flower, please.” He brushed her hair away from her face, his voice low and concerned enough that it pulled her back into the present.
“Tomorrow.” She tried to smile, to ease the concern marring his perfect face, and when he nodded, reluctant as it was, she knew it was passable.
He nodded again, almost as if he were agreeing to something in his mind before he leaned in and whispered, “Pick your poison. I got you.”
“You’ll dance too?” she asked and watched as he frowned, but nodded again.
“Then we need more drinks!” She forced some enthusiasm into her voice and let it seep into her blood. Another night until she needed to face the reality.
Kirin dragged her over to the kitchen again and waved toward the drinks. “Pick whatever you want.”
The cocktail she mixed this time was probably something akin to actual poison because she’d only finished half the cup by the time her world moved from wavy to tilting unnaturally.
She sipped it as she ground and rubbed herself against Kirin on the dance floor.
That euphoric sensation of being loose and drunk had her laughing with Ainsley and Harper as they danced with one another and Leon.
Harrison, unsurprisingly, watched from the wall.
After pouring herself another cup, the next memory was of the world upside down and an odd pressure in her midsection. The lungful of Kirin’s laundry scent and cologne relaxed her enough that she let the black creeping into the edges of her vision win.