on my phone, which seems to sway in my hand, but I think it says 3:14? Or is that 11:14? Beer cans cover nearly every inch of the small coffee table. King lies stretched out on the couch asleep while Roman snores with his head thrown back in the chair. Jordan, on the other hand, is looking down at his phone laughing loudly.
"What is it?" I ask with a broad smile.
"Stupid prank video." He laughs, lifting the phone and pointing it in my direction. His arm is unsteady and by the time the phone stops moving long enough for me to see, the phone has changed to his home screen.
"You clicked it off."
We both laugh until we can barely breathe. King starts to stir and I stand on wobbly legs, hoping not to wake him further.
"We are being too loud," I say, trying to stop giggling. Jordan looks lazily from me to King, then over to Roman.
"I guess it's time for bed," he says. "Let me just go grab my extra blanket and I'll crash here."
"Where?" I look at King's body covering over a third of the couch. He alone is too big for it; I don't know how Jordan expects to fit.
"I'll lounge over here." He points to the other end of the sofa where we were sitting. "King passes out here all the time. He won't move from that spot. But he'll eventually get up and go home." He struggles to his feet and bumps the table when he stands.
"No. That's silly, just come sleep with me," I say. Jordan gives me a hard stare and I swear there’s a darkness there, something carnal and heated. But I know it’s just the beer and wishful thinking on my part.
"No, that's not going to work," he slurs, then starts walking toward the hall. I follow him upstairs, making sure my steps are deliberate. God, I didn't mean to drink this much but at least I had a little fun tonight. Better than the last few days.
"I'll sleep down here. You take the bed."
My body is warm and tingling. A sensation that only alcohol can produce. I feel great but this is the longest staircase in existence. We make it to the top and nearly stumble into his room.
"What?" I ask, drawing out the end of the word. "What do you think will happen?" He’s just about to open the closet door but turns when he hears me. His face is flushed, his eyes hazy, and he's swaying a bit, but he regards me without speaking right away so I continue my teasing. "You think I'm going to bite?"
"No, but I might."
"What?"
"Alcohol," he mumbles, shaking his head.
What did he just say? A heat rolls down my body and I know I should let it go. We're both drunk and he's probably just talking but my curiosity and a bit of liquid courage push me forward.
"What did you say?" I step in front of him and grab his arms, not missing how hard his muscles feel under my touch. His head is tilted downward, eyes fixed on where I'm touching him.
Slowly, he brings his gaze to mine, his breathing becoming rhythmic and deep as his eyes darken. A look I've never seen from him before. It makes my pulse race.
I exhale and his eyes drop to my parted lips, causing me to look at his. My God. Is he about to kiss me? Please be about to kiss me. My heart sputters in my chest as I let myself sink into this need, this yearning for him. It feels foreign but familiar at the same time. As long as I’ve wanted more of him, I’ve never let myself get this deep, but I’m falling. Every nerve in my body tingles, my mind clouds over, my skin starts to burn. It’s too much, and yet, not enough.
“What did you say?” I ask again, only my voice is softer this time.
"I said I might be the one to bite," he says.
He’s leaning toward me, his hands falling to his sides. The playfulness that lived in my chest moments ago is replaced with a heat that's growing from my core. Suddenly, I become aware of everything. How his jaw ticks, how he smells like beer mixed with a musky cologne. I can't breathe with him this close. It’s like my lungs aren't working properly. His hand starts to inch slowly up my arm causing my breath to hitch before he pulls it away, almost