Next to me, Reid’s gaze sweeps slowly from my face to my br**sts, over the ribbon tie at my waist, to my pink toenails and back up. I want to know how he feels about me—not just my body (when he’s drunk and paying attention), but me. After our scenes this week, I was reduced to mush, and he ignored me at the club. I should be pissed. Which proves to be impossible when my head is spinning and he is sitting right next to me, looking so crazy gorgeous.
Balls. The tequila caught up with me quickly.
“What should I do with you, Emma Pierce?” He’s inches away, his mouth turned up on one side, his eyes slate blue in the dim light of the room.
“What do you wanna do?” I flirt back.
“Hmm.” His eyes are locked on mine, and I feel the vibrations to my toes. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head, immediately wishing I hadn’t. The effects of the tequila are building, even though I started cheating half an hour ago, feigning shots. My thoughts spin along with my vision. I close my eyes for a moment, and hear Reid’s soft laugh.
Oh, man. I can’t let everything move this fast with Reid; I’m not sure yet what he wants. Correction. I’m pretty sure what he wants, but I don’t know what it means. The hot/cold game is confusing. Is he trying to slow it down? Does he regularly hook up during films? Is a hookup what I want, if it’s all I can get with him? I’m far too buzzed to think clearly.
“Let’s play spin-the-bottle,” Quinton suggests. “Or seven minutes in heaven. We can use the balcony.”
MiShaun stands. “This is where I call old lady privilege, children.” She zigzags across the floor to the door, waving off protests. “I’ve done junior high.”
“MiShaun, I think you’re just afraid to kiss me,” Tadd says.
She turns, one hand on the curve of her hip. “And you may be right.”
As she leaves the room, Tadd quips, “I believe I’ve just been insulted.”
Graham’s eyes meet mine, but I’m sure there’s no way he remembers what he promised me several hours ago until he stands, stretching. “I’m beat. And just so you know, Tadd, I’m not afraid to kiss you.” He picks up his guitar. Like a postscript, he turns and adds, “Emma, you said something about running in the morning?” reaching a hand down to me. I link my hand with his and he pulls me up. The room tilts back and forth, but he holds my wrist firmly. Half a minute later, we’re in the hallway walking towards our rooms, one of us less steadily than the other.
“Maybe I’m weird, but those kissing games feel so awkward.” My words slur together—kissygameshfeelsawkward—which makes me giggle.
He passes his door, his warm hand at my waist, keeping me from bumping into walls or falling down. “I agree. I’d rather control who I kiss than leave it to fate and an empty bottle,” he says softly, taking my key, unlocking my door and pushing it open.
“I wasn’t ready to go out onto the balcony with… well. I mean, we’re all kinda smashed. Balconies aren’t safe. Somebody could fall over the edge. Or something.” I lean against the open door, a blush creeping up my neck.
“You know, it might have been me you ended up with out there, not him,” I look up at him then—his brown eyes so dark they’re nearly black as he teases me about seven minutes we might have shared on Brooke’s balcony, doing… who knows what.
“Huh.”
He hands the key card back to me and smiles. “Goodnight, Emma.”
He turns back to his room, and I watch until he unlocks his door and pushes it open. “Emma?” he calls softly as I stumble into my room.
I catch my door before it closes, my heartbeat drumming in my ears, and answer without looking around the corner. “Yeah?”
“That’s definitely four.” He’s chuckling as his door closes with a click.
Chapter 13
REID
Emma and Graham are gone before I can react, thanks to the number of shots I’ve had. With exception of that one look between them, he seemed focused on Brooke all night, so the idea that he’d leap up and take Emma with him at some point was out of nowhere.
Tadd gets to his feet unsteadily after a quick glance between Brooke and me. “Quinton, help me get this baby into her room.” He gestures to Jenna, who’s curled up asleep on the floor. We’ve successfully set a fifteen-year-old on the road to corruption, as others did for each of us. Tadd nudges her semi-awake and he and Quinton each take one of her arms. “Thank God she weighs as much as a postage stamp,” Tadd says, propping her up.
Quinton closes his eyes, steadying himself with one arm around Jenna. “I’m going to hate myself in the morning.”
“I hate you now, man. I still don’t believe you’ve never had lobster.”
They both laugh, weaving towards the door, Jenna barely conscious between them.
“G’night. You two behave,” Tadd leers at Brooke and me, eyebrows raised, as the three of them stumble into the hallway.
The door closes behind them and we sit, staring at each other across the expanse of carpet. Neither of us says anything for a couple of minutes.
Finally, I incline my head towards her bed. “Once, for old times’ sake?”
Incredulous, she blinks, measuring how serious I am. Given that Emma just left the room with Graham, Brooke is drunk and looking hot and doable, and we’re in her room alone, I’m game if she is. For a few seconds—one, two, three—I think she might be. And then she shuts it down. “Not on your life.”