It looks grown-up. Sophisticated even.
Good.
It has a cherry too. Only the cherry is on top. The cherry is waiting for me.
Oliver hands me the drink. Takes the other. Gives it to Holden.
Holden slips his finger into the glass. Pulls out the cherry. Tosses it into his mouth.
Fuck, I know it doesn’t mean anything, that it’s just his sweet tooth. But my head still screams Holden wants a cherry. He wants to pop my cherry. He wants to take my virginity.
He wants to be my first.
He could be my first time.
The perfect first time.
What a beautiful thought. His hands on my thighs. His nails on my skin. His lips on my clit.
Woah.
I don’t think about that. Not usually. Even when I touch myself, it’s vague thoughts of our bodies joining. Or memories of hands on my chest. A scene in a sexy movie. (I don’t really like the porn Luna sends me. It’s just sooo much. Not that she pushes. I ask).
Maybe these drinks are working.
Or maybe it’s Holden.
I hold up my glass.
Oliver and Holden clink.
I take a long sip.
Mmm. That’s good. It has the faint taste of booze, but it’s mostly a perfect blend of sweet richness, spice, and cherry.
I take another sip. Let the drink warm my throat and chest.
“I like this one,” I say.
Oliver nods I know.
Holden reaches for my hand. “Slow down, kid. You’ve got more.”
“If you know what you like, you know.” He picks up another drink. A fizzy one with honey. “Never thought you were a Manhattan girl.”
“Does that mean something?” I ask.
“No. Just thought you’d stick to clear spirits.” He offers me the glass. “You can stick with what you like. Or try this.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Kentucky mule. Bourbon and ginger beer. I have one with vodka too,” he says.
I take the glass. Take a small sip. It is good. Like an even sweeter, even spicier ginger ale. I can’t taste the booze. At all. “This one is dangerous.” I offer it to Holden.
“He’s not gonna give that back,” Oliver says. “It’s his drink.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, I want every sip. I want to taste like his lips. But I already know it’s a bad idea. Not just because it’s so sweet and rich I can’t taste the alcohol.
Because my head is saying are you really drinking all that sugar?
“Go for it.” My fingers brush his as I hand it over.
Holden takes a sip. Lets out a loud sigh. “You’re gonna kill someone with this.” He turns to the sound of footsteps. Toasts to Luna as she steps into the kitchen.
“Fuck, you look good.” Oliver’s jaw nearly drops.
She does. She’s channeling Marilyn Monroe, with her hair in pin curls, her lips painted red, her white halter dress showing off her strong shoulders.
She’s wearing hot pink sandals, and she’s way taller than the late icon, but she’s still rocking the vibe.
Though—
I guess I worry about her too. The actual Marilyn Monroe wasn’t a carefree fashion slash sex goddess. She was a troubled woman who died of a drug overdose.
My best friend does well. She certainly doesn’t drink as much as my brother does. But still…
I guess worrying is in my nature.
“I know.” She blows him a kiss. Shoots Holden a wink. “Is that for me?”
“You have a favorite cocktail?” he asks.
“A strong one. Oliver made all these, so—” of course they all fit the bill.
“What do you think, kid?” Holden turns to me. “Which one are you holding onto?” He holds up the Kentucky mule. “This one is dangerous. Sweet enough you’ll blink and be drunk.”
“Now, I have to try.” She shoots me an are you okay look.
I nod yeah.
She takes the drink. Takes a long sip. Lets out a soft moan. “That is good. Should we rock, paper, scissors for who keeps it?” She turns her back to the boys. Mouths give me a sec.
I nod sure. “Let’s see.”
We set our drinks on the counter.
She pulls me to the edge of the room. Holds her hand into a fist. Pretends to go through the whole one, two, three count. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
She nods you are too. “You want me to reapply your lipstick now?” She says it loudly, so the guys will hear.
They make that guy are you really taking more time for makeup groan, but they nod sure. Go back to laughing over something.
God, I can’t remember the last time Oliver laughed this much. Is it because he’s drunk? Or is it having his best friend around?
“Did I give you enough time alone with him?” She pulls a tube of lipstick from her purse. Checks the shade. Tosses it back.
“You took forever on purpose?”
“Of course.” She tests another tube. Nods ahhah. “You’re beaming.”
“I’m not.”
She nods you are. Motions for me to close my mouth and pout.
I do.
She takes advantage of my temporary silence. “If you want, I can keep Oliver distracted. Make sure you get some time to dance. To… do more than dance, maybe?”