31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Kat
Next, I met their friend Jack, and had the lovely little explanation given bluntly by Andrew that we’d met before.
I was getting sick of meeting people I should’ve known.
But I just slurped on my drink and carried on.
I met several other people, most of whom I wouldn’t actually remember, and the slurping stayed consistent.
Which was why Andrew was now slipping that double into my hand. But the introductions were over and I was watching my hair curl and curl and curl as it dried by the fire. It always did wild things when it got wet in the rain.
I tipped a little too far toward the fire because I was focusing on it, and felt Henry’s hands tighten for not the first time since I’d perched here. He wasn’t even looking at me anymore—he was talking to someone else. But he was always paying attention to me. I knew that. That wasn’t unusual.
Andrew brushed by me on his way back to the bar for his own drink after playing waiter, and I slipped again. Henry caught me again, but I heard him sigh.
“Come here,” he growled, clearly done with catching me every two minutes. Whoops. He scooched further back on the weirdly deep couch and sat me on the cushion between his legs. Well, that worked I guessed.
“Are you still warm enough? You seemed about ready to jump into the fire,” he asked in my ear. I nodded, even though I wanted to say no, just to feel his arms around me again.
He couldn’t have seen that on my face. He couldn’t see my face.
But he still slipped his arms around my waist and leaned down to rest his chin on my good shoulder.
He seemed a little more relaxed now, which I was grateful for.
I wanted him to relax enough to enjoy his birthday.
I still felt terrible. I wasn’t fully convinced I hadn’t ruined it.
“Becca and Sofia are coming?” I murmured to him, knowing he’d hear me right there. He nodded on my shoulder, turning to look at my face from where he sat. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket, lacing his fingers through the one hand that was in there.
“Are you okay with that?” he asked carefully. I nodded.
“Of course, Henry. They’re your family,” I said honestly.
To be completely frank, if he said his parents were coming, and he wanted them there, I’d deal with it.
I’d deal with it from the opposite side of the room with Milo and as many others as cannon fodder between us as I could get, but I’d deal with it. He snorted at my response.
“The only reason I’m letting Becca come is because she had no idea about… well anything, really,” he explained. I laughed.
“Then what the hell was she thinking?” I asked. He shrugged. What an answer. I turned to look at him, now. His cheeks were pink. Got it.
“Got it,” I said softly, kissing him on the cheek. It wasn’t his fault. My girls had been just as meddlesome lately. They were just half a continent away most of the time right now.
“But it was my fault she didn’t know what she was doing.
She and Mark are a lot older than me. They weren’t around back then.
So, I guess my parents lied to them, too.
And I haven’t exactly… shared much lately.
So, she got some from my parents. But the bare minimum.
Not nearly enough,” he explained carefully.
I flipped my hand over in the pocket so our hands were palm to palm now instead of his on top of mine.
And I squeezed his hand as best I could with my plexi-cast.
“I haven’t exactly explained anything that would make any of this easier, either.
I get it,” I said softly. I hated that tone in his voice.
He got it so often. He was blaming himself for everything again.
God, we were a fucking disaster. Our attention was pulled to Milo and one of the other rookies from the previous season hollering for everybody to shut up.
“We’re playing a game,” they shouted in unison. The fuck we were.
“A drinking game!” the other rookie shouted. Oh, HELL no.
And yet. Milo zeroed in on me, spotting my eye roll from a mile away.
He grinned. It wasn’t a malicious grin. But I still didn’t like it one bit.
He crawled over the table to get to us, squeezing in between Henry and some guy that didn’t drive dangerously fast for a living. Where there was clearly no room.
An inch away from my face, he actually didn’t address me first. I narrowed my eyes at him, because he was, in fact, looking at me. He just wasn’t talking to me.
“Hey, Henry. You want to play a drinking game?” he asked lightly. Like he didn’t fucking know Henry wasn’t drinking tonight, because he’s the one that got Henry his drink earlier.
“Absolutely,” Henry responded. I could HEAR the laughter in his tone. I grumbled. But Milo spoke to me in Spanish.
“Isn’t there a rule that the birthday boy gets whatever he wants on his birthday? You might as well get used to it now, Gatita,” he said with a smirk. That little-
Henry laughed at the word Gatita, clearly remembering Milo calling me it by accident the other night.
“I hate you,” I said in Spanish. Just to the air in general, knowing Milo was the only one who would understand it anyway. He kissed me on the cheek, bouncing up to go scheme some more.
“No, you love me and you know it. I’m making sure your night ends fantastically.”
He winked at me.
And he was gone.
I tried to beg off the drinking game. Especially when they landed on Never Have I Ever.
Here’s a start. Never have I ever enjoyed this damn game.
Never have I ever seen this game not immediately turned sexual.
But Henry stuck his lower lip out and gave me those damn big blue eyes and I huffed and joined in, holding up my hand.
He hadn’t thought things through, because he clearly wasn’t pleased he didn’t get to hold my hand anymore. He pouted again. He was adorable, but I wasn’t entirely sure what had gotten into him tonight.
“You okay?” I murmured to him. He still had his chin on my shoulder and heard me easily.
“Yeah, why? Are you?” he responded. His cheeks were a little pink, and I thought maybe he was getting too warm. We were only inches from the fire, after all.
“Yeah, I’m perfectly content besides this stupid game.
But you seem… I don’t know, honestly,” I replied.
My drink was gone, and Andrew wasn’t back with my half alcoholic seltzer, half normal seltzer yet.
If I was playing drinking games, I was toning it WAY the fuck down.
I snagged Henry’s glass of seltzer, noticing they’d garnished it just like a normal drink.
I was sure he didn’t want people knowing he wasn’t drinking.
They’d hound him all night. I took a swig.
And coughed. And coughed again. Too big of a gulp. Too much. Oh, God. My eyes were watering and people were staring. And Henry? He was laughing. He quickly changed course at my glare, but he laughed.
“You good there?” he asked, the mirth still evident in his voice. Milo the helpful little gremlin handed me a bottle of water. I drank some before answering Henry. Milo was smirking now too, though.
“I thought you weren’t drinking tonight,” I gasped over my shoulder. Henry just started laughing again, then leaned in close.
“I don’t think you’ve ever once correctly guessed what’s in my glass, darling,” he said in a dangerous tone, for only me to hear.
His free hand slid back into the pocket, pulling me closer to him.
I belatedly realized why he was pouting at me and looked flushed.
He’d gone through more drinks than I had already, if they had all been alcoholic.
Got it. So much for one of us staying sober tonight.
“You never drink during the season, except on the longer breaks,” I argued back to him. He chuckled again, drawing little circles on my stomach through all the layers. He kissed me on the jaw and explained himself.
“I always drink with Andrew on my birthday, and on his. We always figured it was one night a year to just say fuck it,” he said with a shrug, taking another swig off his now half empty drink. My cup was slid into my hand by Andrew as Milo called for everyone to hold up their fingers.
Fuck it, indeed.