“Remember when we were together?”
“Not really,” he drawled, falling back on the bed, yawning.
Jasmine giggled, extracting herself from Carter. “Whatever, you’re just saying that because Taryn’s in here. But really…remember last year when we were here for play-offs?”
“Let me guess,” I said dryly, downing a third shot, “you did it in the elevator?”
She giggled hysterically, like I’d made a joke. Which I didn’t comprehend, neither did Tray, judging from the confusion on his face.
I rolled my eyes and then climbed on top of Tray, purposely slow, sliding my body against his. Hearing his sudden intake of breath, I turned and grinned at Jasmine, tipping my head as Tray started nuzzling my neck. “Yeah. Elevators are so…bad,” I said condescendingly, which everyone registered. Jasmine flushed, Carter barked out a laugh, and Tray flipped us over, kissing me more urgently, ignoring the fact we had an audience.
I watched Jasmine. Oh yeah, she was pissed. She was more than pissed, but she turned and grabbed Carter, smashing his mouth to hers as she pressed up against him.
Carter looked like it was his birthday and he turned her against the wall, taking over the kiss.
Tray stopped kissing me, and looked up. I grinned, and turned his face towards them, and he smiled too.
Then I kissed him, one last peck and shoved him slightly. Tray sat up and let me up. We slipped out of the room unnoticed.
I sighed when we got in the room.
Tray bypassed me and dropped on the bed. I stood in front of him, where he grinned. “You gonna do a dance for me?”
“You want sex tonight?” I shot back.
The smile vanished.
I turned to our fridge. “You put some liquor in here?”
I heard him sit up and move to the end of the bed. “What’s up with you? You inhaled three shots.”
I smiled when I saw he had put a bunch of mini-wine bottles in the fridge. Taking one, I drank it, tipping my head back.
“Taryn,” Tray said seriously.
I shrugged. “I’m here to get away from everything, right? I just want to forget.”
“And the irony’s not lost on you?”
I sighed and stood. “Look…I just…I got a bad feeling, alright…and I don’t like feeling it. So fucking sue me.”
“It’s the same as Mandy taking Vitamin R.”
“Oh no. No fucking way is it the same thing.”
“It’s the same,” Tray said firmly, standing up.
“So what?” I cried out. “I can’t drink now?”
“No. You can drink—just not when you don’t want to feel.”
“Oh please,” I said, “look at you on your fucking high horse, telling me I can’t drink when I want to get rid of this gut-wrenching sense of dread in my stomach.”
“Taryn,” he murmured.
“No. You telling me you never wanted to forget? To stop feeling like a piece of shit when your family left you?”
“Taryn,” he warned.