Still, these three and their booze may just prove to be the perfect distraction.* * *“One more!” Jason says, his cheeks ruddy from the nip in the air and the previous two rounds of drinks. I open my mouth to protest, but he’s faster. “Just one more round and then we can check out the rides.”
My initial protest dies on my lips when I see the pleading looks on my new friends’ faces. “Okay, fine.” A chorus of cheers ring out. “But only one!”
“You heard the lady,” Allen whoops, sending Jason off to the drink tent.
The three of us talk—well, they talk, I listen—about a whole lot of nothing while we wait on Jason to return. About ten minutes later, he does, and we all throw our drinks back before tossing the cups and heading out toward the rides.
“Shiiiiit,” I slur, swaying like a reed as we walk toward the Ferris wheel. “Those—” I stumble, and the pretty blond one catches me. “Thanks… y-yeah.”
His lips are quirked up in a sinful smile. “I’ve got you.” He hauls me back to standing but doesn’t release me. “We’ve all got you.”
I try to smile, but something about his words, even through the alco-haze, seems off. “St-strong.”
He flexes a little. “I am.”
“Strong d-drinks.” My tongue feels fat—like it’s too big for my mouth.
Blondie replies, but his voice is nothing more than a warble, as if he’s on dry land and I’m underwater.
“Huh?” I murmur, wondering when my three new friends doubled to six.
The three—or six—men talk as they corral me to whatever destination they have in mind.
The sound of someone calling my name tickles my ears, but I’m too busy floating… too busy flying to reply.
Ser-a-phine. My name reaches me again, this time louder. I twirl in a circle, searching out the shouter of the syllables. The move sends both me and my blond man-friend flying to a heap on the ground.
He grumbles beneath me, but it’s feminine hands that reach down to help me up.
Her mouth moves, but her words barely penetrate the haze around me—that is until she grabs me by the front of my shirt and forcibly pulls me to standing.
“Whoa!” I giggle at the sensation of falling upward. “Again!” I try and collapse back down, but someone supports me from behind. I try to turn to see who’s at my back, but my newest friend isn’t having it.
“Seraphine!” she yells, turning my face back to hers.
“Des-Desi?” I ask. “You g-got some splainin’ to do!”
Her face pinches and mine falls. I think she’s mad at me. “Are you m-mad at me?”
“Are you high?” she asks. Her voice sounds like a mom—or at least how I think a mom would sound—and not a high schooler. Like a teen mom… I crack up at my own joke. “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“I’m good.” My head rolls back, landing with a thump on what has to be a man chest. A quick glance to the upper-right confirms it—my dark-haired friend is at my back. “Gooder than good. I’m grrrreat!”
She scoffs. “You sound blitzed, Tony the Tiger. Who are the dude-bros?”
I pinch my eyes closed as a wave of dizziness overtakes me. Jason starts rubbing his fingers over my exposed arms, and I shiver. “Uhhh. Friends?”
She mutters something under her breath and then Cliff steps in. “We were headed to the Ferris wheel, if you don’t mind—”
“I do mind,” Desi says, standing taller.
“Look, we don’t want any trouble.” Jason leans in and kisses my neck. “We just wanna take the lady for a ride.”
The two other men snigger while I sag farther into his hold. My limbs feel like jelly and I think… no, I know if he keeps rubbing on me, I might just orgasm. My skin feels like there’s a live-wire plugged into it and even the barest of touches is electric.
“I don’t think—”
One of the guys cuts her off. “Listen, kid, this doesn’t involve you.”
A few more words are exchanged, but I’m too busy watching all of the bright, pretty lights to listen. “Ooh! The funhouse!” I try to bounce on my feet, but the ground moves under me. Luckily, Jason catches me.
“Seraphine—”
Now I’m the one cutting her off. “Have a fun time, Desi!”
The guys guide me away from Desi and toward the funhouse, murmuring to themselves all the while. It takes two of them to keep me upright. “Strong… drinks…” I murmur, nausea churning in my gut as they guide us into the line for the attraction. “So strong.”
“She’s good, man,” one of them says.
“Mmm,” the one at my back rumbles his agreement.
“G-good for what?” I ask, my teeth chattering, even though I’m sweating.
“Everything, baby girl, everything.”Chapter ThreeMateoI’ve got the house to myself, a bowl of frijoles charros—leftovers sent home from my mamá—an ice-cold beer, and a rerun of Bitchin’ Rides playing on the flat screen.