Page 84 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“Yes, you are.”
“I don’t feel drunk.”
“Well, you are.”
“Prove it,” I say.
She sighs and then picks up my phone and, unbeknownst to me, takes a picture of me, nearly searing my eyes with the flash. She turns the screen toward me, but I have to blink a few times before the picture comes into view.
And yup, there I am, looking drunk as can be with my eyelids heavy and my face sagging, almost in defeat.
“It’s your fault,” I say, pointing at her as the flight attendant puts a mini bottle of water next to me.
“How is you getting drunk my fault?” she asks.
“Because you’re not being nice to me.”
“I’m not being nice to you. How so?” she asks, fully turning toward me now.
“You’re not…you’re not yourself, and I don’t like it.”
“Uh-huh, and what would that entail?”
I shrug and sway to the side. “You’re not wearing my T-shirt to bed.”
“And that makes you…”
“Sad,” I say.
“Mmm, but why should that matter?”
“Because I like when you wear it. Actually, why don’t you wear my shirt right now?” I reach behind my head and start to tug on my shirt, but she quickly stops me.
“Do not take your shirt off on the plane, Hudson.”
“But I want you wearing it. And why don’t you care about me?”
“I do care about you.”
I shake my head and reach over the partition to take her hand in mine. She lets me. “No, you don’t. You don’t talk to me anymore or look at me or…or…get naked.”
“I never got naked for you,” she says, the smallest of smiles tugging on her lips.
“Yes, you did. The apron.” I blow out a breath and lean my shoulder against the back of my chair. “I can’t stop dreaming about your ass in that thong.”
Her smile grows. “Oh yeah?”
I slowly nod. “Yup. I wanted it so bad.”
“Shame you couldn’t take what you wanted.”
“I know,” I say, and I link our hands together. “If I had it my way, you’d never remember that Deacon guy.”
“Deacon? You mean Devin?”
“Yeah. Devin the Douche. You wouldn’t even be thinking about his dick.”
“What would I be thinking about?” she asks.
