A. Jackson - When We Met

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said confidently. Turning, he walked back a few tables and sat down where there were a couple of people studying.

I gaped after him for long seconds before turning to leave with Misha, only to find Dean and Vanessa still staring at me. Vanessa with a satisfied smirk, Dean with a raised eyebrow and an annoyed look on his face.

I needed to get out of there before I did something stupid like cry. I needed to get to that party so I could try to have fun as I drank away memories of Dean as I had done every weekend since I’d walked in on him and Vanessa.

“I don’t know what the hell just happened,” I hissed as Misha and I walked out the back door of the coffee shop.

“What do you mean?” She looked over at me with her dark eyes, her expression telling me she really had no clue what I meant.

“That”—I pointed behind us—“in there, that guy. I don’t know him, and I don’t know why he ki—”

She laughed in that soft, quiet way of hers and shook her head—her dark curls bouncing around her face. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you know him, Indy. Quite well, in fact.”

My face fell as we got in her car. “Oh no, no.”

“Oh yes, yes.”

“I’ve slept with him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just saw Dean and Vanessa and her stupid, pregnant stomach. And a guy I don’t know—or remember—kissed me. And Dean was there. And—I need a drink. Or five,” I groaned, and slumped down in the passenger seat.

Misha sighed. “That’s usually how the night starts out when you end up sleeping with him or someone else—and then you never seem to remember it.”

I sat back up quickly. “Someone else?” I nearly shouted. “Where are you and Darryn when this is happening? Why don’t you stop me from sleeping with guys I won’t remember the next morning? And why are you just telling me all this now ?”

“It’s not like we don’t try, and based on how drunk you get and the things you say, you don’t want anyone telling you about what you do when you’re drunk,” she whispered, her tone indicating she was done with this conversation, and judging from it, I wondered just how many times they’d tried to stop me from myself when I drank.

Six hours later I’d successfully put Dean and Vanessa out of my mind, had lost twice and won once at beer pong, had beat three frat guys at downing six shots the fastest, and had eaten half a loaf of warm, fresh garlic bread.

Wait. What the hell?

“Who gave me bread?” I yelled, and looked around at everyone before tearing off another piece of the soft disgustingness and shoving it in my mouth.

Despite not knowing where it came from, I kept the foil-covered loaf firmly in my grip. I was going to gain five pounds off this alone, and I didn’t care at all right now. Someone started moving against me, and I automatically began moving to the music—half loaf and beer still in hand.

A deep chuckle vibrated against my neck. “What’s that you got there, Indy?”

My eyebrows rose, and my eyes opened sluggishly. “Hmm?”

The person behind me tapped my bread, and I snatched it away from him, holding it close to my chest. “It’s my present. It’s delicious and soft and melts in my mouth, and you can’t have any.”

He pressed his body closer to mine, his hands gripping my hips. “You know what else melts in your mouth,” he said suggestively.

“M&M’s?” I asked with false naivety before laughing loudly and turning to look at him. “I don’t know you, either,” I mused, a smile on my face. “But I do know you, don’t I?”

The handsome guy nodded. “We definitely know each other, Indy.” His body was still moving to the music—as was mine—and his head dipped to kiss behind my ear.

I pushed at his chest, and giggled. Why am I giggling? I’m not a giggler. Am I? Garlic bread plus hot guy plus drinking equals the giggles. Oh God, drinking makes me do math problems. “No.” I drew out the word. “I promised Misha I’d be a good girl.”

A grin tugged at his lips. “You weren’t last week.”

“Last week, huh?” I tilted forward as I studied his eyes, and clapped my bread and cup together. “You’re really hot. Go, me.”

He huffed out a laugh, his expression morphing into something other than the heated look he’d been giving me. He looked confused and kind of shocked. I didn’t blame him—I’d already been mauled by the guy from the coffee shop about an hour ago, and now there was this guy in front of me. I was beginning to wonder how many more guys I’d run into tonight who I’d been hooking up with over the past couple of months. Even through the haze of my drunken mind, I was disgusted with myself.

I wasn’t this girl, never had been. I’d lost my virginity to Dean and had planned on being with him forever. Multiple partners weren’t my thing. Drunken hookups weren’t my thing. Actually . . . getting drunk at all wasn’t my thing.

And now I was frowning.

“Uh, am I missing something?” he asked, and I frowned harder as I wished I remembered him. He really was cute.

I could have gotten his name, I could have walked with him back to my room next door . . . but I didn’t want to fuel this side of me he thought he knew.

I held up my beer and half loaf and smiled. “Cheers.” Turning, I walked away from unknown guy number two and stumbled my way to the hall on the first floor to find the bathroom.

It shouldn’t be that hard. This house was built exactly like ours, and I’d spent enough time in this house that I knew it as well as I knew my own. But the walls were spinning sideways and tilting forward, and my bread was starting to smell like bananas, so . . . yeah, difficulty level in finding the bathroom was at an all-time high.

After one miss, I hit a door that was locked and smacked the hand holding the loaf against the door. “Hurry,” I whined, as I kept smacking my hand against the door.

It was official. I turned into a three-year-old when I was drunk. Note to self before I drank again: I’m an annoying drunk.

“Bathroom!” I whined again, and went to take a sip of my beer, but my cup was suddenly empty. “Lame. So much lame in that cup.”

The door swung open, revealing a flushed couple, and I grinned widely at them. “Hope you used protection,” I sang as I stepped into the bathroom and they hurried out. I’m sure tomorrow I would be grossed out that I used a restroom after people just got done doing unmentionables in it.

After leaving the bathroom with more bread in my mouth, I looked to the left and my eyes narrowed on a closed door. On my right, the music was loud, and the people at the party were even louder. But something about that door called to me.

Rolling up the top of the foil again, I went to the door, twisted the handle, and put all my weight into it, expecting it to be locked.

It wasn’t.

I stumbled in, a giggle bubbling up from my chest as I gripped the doorknob and my bread like a lifeline, trying to keep myself vertical.

“Whoa—shit,” I laughed, and straightened.

There was a sigh behind me. “Guess it’s time to go home?”

I whirled around and fell back into the wall from my too-fast movement, the familiar guy lying on the bed darted up like he could save me from over there.

“Definitely time to go home.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” I hissed.

“Really, Indy?” he said on a soft laugh, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up.

My frown was back. “You know me, too?”

He sent me a patient smile. “Not really.”

“But you know my name,” I prompted.

“Yeah, well—yeah. Come on, let’s get you home.”

I pointed at him and gasped. “Casey!”