He inspects the glass. “I thought it demonstrated my good character.”
“Good character.” Burt’s loud voice interrupts them, and Stephen visibly cringes. “Still think you’re better than us, Hastings?”
“Only you, Dick.” Stephen takes a long drink. “Only you.”
Girls actually swoon over Burt all the time, but he’s nothing compared to Stephen.
“Let’s join the party.” Ethan puts his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, and they start down the stairs in my direction. “Find a chick and get your dick wet.”
“Right. That sounds like me.” Stephen shrugs off my brother, and Ethan staggers away.
He pauses at the bottom, scanning the crowd with a frown. I follow his gaze over the mob of former classmates. Most are buzzed. Most are familiar. We passed each other daily at Pike Academy four years ago—until he left for Yale. Tonight we’re reunited.
Girls sway in colorful silk dresses with thin, spaghetti straps, practically lingerie. Their hair hangs in waves over their shoulders and their eyes sparkle as they listen to guys tell exaggerated stories of their prowess, either in the stock market or on the playing field. The guys evaluate their breasts, their hips, their lips. I’m sure they’ll be fucking like good little rabbits before the night ends. Our classmates can be so predictable.
All I know is Stephen is wide open. It’s now or never.
“That’s a fierce scowl.” I’m amazed at how confident my voice sounds, loud and commanding. Thanks, beer. “Don’t like what you see?”
I hop up on the bottom step beside him. It puts my head at the top of his shoulder, and I lift my chin, looking over the crowd with a scowl, imitating him. “You’re right.” My nose wrinkles, and I meet his gaze. “They’re a bunch of horny assholes.”
I manage to come off casual, teasing, and his frown morphs into a narrow-eyed grin. “Emmy Barton. Ethan didn’t say kids would be here.”
His voice is like warm butter, and I’m thrilled he remembers me. “I’m not a kid anymore, Stephen Hastings. I started at Sarah Lawrence last year.”
“Bully for you.” He takes a drink of whiskey, but I’m stronger than his sarcasm.
“I wanted to stay close to home.”
“Why the hell would you want that?”
Blinking up at him, I smile, going for honesty. “I miss my dad. I miss Ethan. I guess family feels more important when you lose someone.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” He looks down at his tumbler, and his expression darkens.
My mom lost her long battle against lung cancer a few years ago. It was devastating watching her suffer, and her death was a mixture of heartbreak and relief she was out of pain. It still hurts if I think about it too much…
Stephen’s mother died of cancer when we were kids, but I remember how it changed him. How he smiled less, played less.
“We have that in common, don’t we?” My voice is gentle.
“It’s not so fresh for me.” His softens, and I’m encouraged. I’m not inside the wall, but I’m closer.
“Here you are.” Burt appears at my side, putting his hand on my lower back. What the hell?
Stephen’s eyes go to where he’s touching me, and all I can think is fuck no.
“You’re drunk.” I shove Burt’s hands off my short denim skirt.
He immediately puts both hands on my waist and turns me to him, leaning closer. “You’re not blowing me off
for this asshole are you?” His breath smells like vodka, and his flat brown eyes are intoxicated.
He makes a move like he’s going to kiss me, but I duck and twirl away, moving to stand beside Stephen, holding his arm. “Stephen and I are having a nice chat. You need to call it a night.”
Burt’s attention turns to Stephen, and his brow lowers. Stephen is ready when Burt lunges at him. His strong arm shoots out, gripping Burt by the shoulder and holding him back.
“Walk it off, Dickerson.” It’s a low growl, and I know Stephen could wipe the floor with Burt’s drunk ass.