Make My Move (Hannaford Prep #5) - J. Bree Page 0,10
safe and untouched from what I can see.
I feel a hell of a lot more relief than I have any right to, throwing my head back and roaring with the type of drunken laughter that feels just a little hysterical.
Tonight isn’t going to end well.
But for right now we just dance and, fuck me, the Mounty can move. Avery is all sorts of grace and poise but Lips is… fuck, she’s languid and swinging hips and her ass is fucking out of this world. The dance floor is crowded enough that she brushes against me a few times and it’s only because of the drunken delay I have going on that I don’t do something about it.
Too fucking tempting.
I guess I’m lucky that the drinking finally catches up to me and I have to puke. I stumble outside to puke all over the steps, my stomach cramping like fucking crazy as the girls out there squeal and yell at me for getting it on their shoes. Joke’s on them, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about any of them.
I barely register anything happening around me until Avery wedges herself under my arm, helping keep me upright as we stumble through the trees toward the school. My feet aren’t working right at all and I know I’m leaning too heavily on her but I just can’t keep my balance.
Until I can.
The Mounty smells too good, too inviting, too alluring to my completely fucked state and with my eyes shut like this there’s nothing else to focus on except the way that she’s tucked in tight against me. Thank God my words are all fucked up because no matter how hard I try to tell her that I want her, that I’m sorry for being such a dick to her, and that really I’m the one desperately hoping she picks me, they never come out right.
Just a long stream of mumbling sounds and grumbling.
Neither of them take any notice of me or anything they might be able to decipher from me, though I’m sure Avery will call me out for shit later. She’s been around me enough when I’m trashed that she might know what the fuck I’m saying.
Thank God Ash isn’t here, he’d read me like an open fucking book.
My eyes stay closed up tight and my legs like jelly under me; they don’t stop fucking wobbling as we walk.
The Mounty smells really fucking good.
She feels good too, tucked up tight under my shoulder, and I decide this is the best type of torture. The type where I know it’ll bite me in the ass later but, for now, I don’t want it to end.
I almost pitch over when we stop abruptly, the Mounty cursing viciously under her breath and then Avery snaps, “Move, Summers.”
Ugh. Annabelle again.
“Give him here. We came together and we’ll leave together,” she calls out, which is a complete lie but if I open my mouth, I will puke all over Avery’s shoes and I like my balls where they are, thanks, so I’ll just have to plead my innocence later.
Avery huffs and wriggles until she has a better hold of my waist, my stomach roiling at the movement… wait, no, that’s me moving. Fuck. How do I stop the rocking? I can’t. Fuck.
I start swallowing, praying I don’t puke again, but no one notices. Avery and Lips are too busy trying to get rid of Annabelle.
“He’s done for the night. We’ll see him back safely,” Lips says and I tuck my face into her neck and breathe her in a little more, the scent distracting me from the bile creeping up my throat. I just need to keep it together until we’re back up in the dorms; Avery will hate me puking in her bathroom but it’ll be better than her shoes.
“You? Fuck no, if he goes home with you he’ll be tied to a fucking bed and forced to play out all of your stalker fantasies.”
“If he goes home with you, he’ll wake up naked and an expectant father. Now fuck off,” Avery hisses at her and we start moving again.
I stumble over my feet again, and when Annabelle starts screaming at us, I lift my head away from Lips’ neck and yell out to her, my eyes still shut tight, “I told you to leave me the fuck alone, Summers.”
Nope.
Gonna puke.
I tuck back into her neck and breathe deeply to ride out the waves of sickness.