Crazy Eights (Stacked Deck #8) - Emilia Finn Page 0,132
she closes the pantry doors, and spins to the counter to search for a bottle opener.
“I’m not sure why being a cheap drunk is frowned upon.” I snag a knife from the butcher’s block, and a cutting board from the cupboard by my thigh, then I get to work slicing chicken. “Being an expensive drunk is, one, expensive, and two, means my kidneys are already damaged. Being cheap means I can have a drink or two and be happy, and not have to piss a thousand times through the night. And also, being cheap means I can have a single beer and smile. Sit in front of the TV, watch something stupid, and just… smile. It’s actually kinda perfect.”
“Well, damn.” She snags an opener from my utensil drawer, and just seconds later, pops the caps off both bottles. “Wanna drink a single beer and smile with me?”
“Yes, I do.” I lean across the counter, and press my lips to hers until she sighs and her breath scorches down my throat. “That sounds pretty fuckin’ awesome. I chose dinner, so you can choose what we watch. Then we can go to my bed, and try the sweet fucking thing.”
“Deal,” she breathes out. “Totally no hesitation deal.”
“Favorite thing that has happened to you in the last four years?” she asks.
We sit on the couch with half-empty plates in our laps, and Vampire Diaries playing on the TV. Her choice. Not mine.
“My favorite thing?” I smile and repeat her words so my brain has a moment to process. “Umm… well, my fighter, Guy?”
Her eyes light up. “He’s still yours?”
“Not anymore,” I answer. “But he won a title, just like he wanted, then he won his girl’s heart, and traipsed off to some other town to live his happily ever after.”
“That’s your favorite thing?” she asks with a goofy grin. Someone else is a cheap drunk too. “But that happened to someone else, and you lost your fighter.”
“Right.” I turn on the couch, and since Quinn has already done the same, we sit face to face, knee to knee, and so fucking close, all I have to do is lean forward and kiss her. “I lost my fighter, but his win felt like a win for me. I liked it, and I like his girl, too. She’s a sweetheart, so I was happy for them. That was my favorite thing since you left. What about you? Favorite thing that has happened to you in the last four years?”
“Um…” She brings her beer up, and looks to the sky for inspiration. “I got to dance in the Ellie Solomon Dance Academy again.”
“Today?” I furrow my brows. “Today was your favorite thing?”
“Mm.” She brings her gaze down and grins. “One of my favorite things. But it was kinda massive, and the most recent, so it’s the first thing that came to my mind.”
“Did you have a good time?”
“Oh my god, yes.” She rolls her eyes the same way she does when she’s coming. And that memory, that flicker in my mind, makes my cock hard. “It was so much fun to not only see them dance in real life, but to be a part of it. To be involved. And they asked me for ideas on certain moves! I don’t know shit about the technical terms, I don’t have a fancy education. It’s like we were speaking two different languages, which means we had to use more than words. We had to use hands,” she lifts her hers, “and movements, and facial expressions to try to convey what we were saying. And by the end of the day, that became its own language too. I got to dance with them, Jamie. Like…” Her eyes shine with the passion we all know lives in her heart. “I wasn’t the pitied street kid they figured would be rude to ignore, but an active participant, and they respected my thoughts when I said something needed to change.”
“You got to help choreograph.”
“Yes!” She grins. “I’ve yet to choreograph my own dance, let alone an entire show, but they use my moves, and incorporate them into what they already have. And hell,” she slumps forward, “I never thought that would ever happen. So yeah, today was a favorite day for me. Any other girlfriends since I left? Even the kissing kind?”
“Nope.” I take a sip of my drink, and smile when the cold liquid slides down into my gut. “I looked at a few over the years, I looked extra close