***
I stand up quickly and end up smacking my head on the edge of the counter. Hard.
"Fuck!" I swear, holding my head and wincing, the pain radiating in waves.
Deep laughter erupts from the man next to me, causing me to shoot a glance in his direction.
He looks to be around my brother's age—maybe a friend of his from college? I can't deny that he's attractive and as he laughs, I get a glimpse of perfectly straight, white teeth. He's also taller than I first noticed—at least 6'2"—easily towering over me and causing me to look up as I blatantly stare him down. The black long-sleeve he's wearing clings to his biceps and shows off his wide shoulders. There's no doubt that this man isn't a stranger to the gym.
Not half bad.
I give an embarrassed smile in his direction and crouch back down before we can make eye contact.
"You said you wanted the Maker's Mark?" I question, although I know damn-well what he said, my voice coming out slightly breathy.
"Are you sure you're alright? And yes, there should be a bottle—towards the back. At least, it was there a little while ago."
"Yep, just peachy." I hear him set a glass on the counter as I look. It takes me a second to locate both the Grey Goose and the whiskey in question, and another few seconds to take a few deep breaths and calm my erratic heart.
Once I feel calmer, I grab both bottles, close the freezer, and stand up, careful of the counter this time.
He's still standing right next to me, leaning into both palms on the counter with his glass in the center, his eyes focused on the game of King's Cup across the room.
I place both bottles on the counter and quickly turn away towards the cabinets, busying myself with looking for a glass to pour my drink into. I hear him hum in appreciation and slide the whiskey bottle closer towards him on the counter. I open the cabinet my parents keep their bar glasses in and select a short tumbler that will be perfect for the drink I'm making.
I return to the counter with my glass, avoiding glancing at the man next to me, and uncap the vodka bottle. After pouring slightly more than two shots of alcohol into the glass, I reach over and grab the orange juice and pour a healthy amount in, eyes trained strictly on the task in front of me. I hear him doing the same, uncapping the whiskey bottle and pouring it into his empty tumbler—straight. I mentally gag at the thought of drinking any alcohol straight, the thought making me shiver in disgust.
What happened to you that made you get to the point where drinking straight alcohol was enjoyable?
"I haven't seen you around before. Are you from here?" I can feel his eyes on me, tempting me to look up and meet his gaze, but the sour feeling in my stomach is back. I'm overly anxious about this stranger and I can't figure out why.
"Actually, no. I'm from Portland." My third lie of the night. I'm on a freaking roll. "I'm in town visiting my friend and she brought us here after hearing about it from James."
My hands are clammy and I hope he doesn't notice the hesitation in my voice as I lie through my teeth. I take a big gulp of my drink to calm myself, fighting the urge to make a face as more vodka than orange juice goes down my throat. I shouldn't have mentioned James—less detail is more when it comes to lying.
"Ah, I see." He sucks his teeth. "Are you enjoying yourself? Hopefully your friend didn't ditch you?"
He doesn't try hard to veil the fact that he knows I'm lying. I force a chuckle and glance from my drink over to James, watching as he pulls a card from the deck in the middle of the group and studies it. It must be a shit card because he frowns dramatically and takes a large gulp of his drink. Must've been a three.
"No, she didn't ditch me. I came down here because it seemed quieter." Finally, not entirely a lie. I choose not to answer his question about having fun and take another drink to fill the silence.
Neither of us says anything for a beat, and I take it as my opportunity to get the hell out of here.
"I'm going to go join them. Have a nice night!" I throw enthusiasm into the last sentence, trying to cover up my unease, and all but bolt over to the group containing my brother.
I gingerly take a seat in the middle of two people on the couch, back facing the bar where Whiskey Guy is, and catch James's eye.
"Heeeeeey, Emma's here!" He shouts, causing everyone's eyes to slide over to me.
I smile tightly and do an awkward wave to everyone in the circle. Stupid James and his big mouth. I really hope my fake cover that I gave Whiskey Guy, no matter how shoddy it was, hasn't been blown by how friendly James is acting with me. It definitely doesn't look like we just met. I resist the urge to turn around and check the bar for him.
"Ace is waterfall!" The girl to my right announces, holding an Ace card in her hand.
Waterfall means the person who draws begins drinking and everyone else follows suit, but cannot stop drinking until the person to their right does. I groan and put my drink to my lips, waiting for her to begin.
***
After several more cards are drawn, I'm feeling exponentially more relaxed, my lips pulled up into a permanent, easy smile.
I reach into the pile of cards and pull one out, hiding it with my other hand so the people beside me can't sneak a look.
Seven.
I quickly point a finger up into the sky and yell, "Seven, point to Heaven!"
Everyone else follows suit, the last of which to point being my brother, who is too absorbed in conversation with the girl to his left to notice the action. She realizes before he does, yelping and throwing her hand up. James looks perplexed at her actions for a second before realization dawns on him and he throws his hand up as well, quickly looking around the circle. He deflates as everyone laughs, understanding he was last and has to drink.
We lock eyes and he gives me a thumbs down.
"Thanks a lot, lil' sis." He slurs slightly and winks at me, draining the rest of his drink in one go.
"Hey, I don't make the rules." I jest back, rolling my eyes and smiling. "Do you want another drink? I was just about to go pour myself another, anyway." I hold out my hand for his drink and stand up.
"Sure—thanks, Em." He hands me his glass.
I nod and pick my way out of the circle, wobbling a bit as I walk. Guess I'm drunker than I thought. I make a beeline for the bar, subconsciously noticing that it's empty—no intimidating hottie in sight.
I smile to myself as I make us both new drinks. I'm enjoying this night, relishing in partying with my brother, something we never really got to do before I moved away. I had turned 21 in Portland and only had a small celebration with my coworkers in lieu of going out to the bars. I know that if I had turned 21 here, James would have taken us on a bender and probably destroyed my liver.
Done with the drinks, I place the now empty orange juice bottle into the trash can and shut the alcohol back in the mini-freezer below the counter. Standing back up, I hear someone coming down the stairs and slide my gaze over to the steps out of curiosity.
Immediately, I feel like I've been punched in the gut, my lungs devoid of air, as I make eye contact with intense, golden-honey colored orbs.
The wolf.
***
