My chest rumbles with laughter.
Jesus. Riley was getting very specific. It’s cute. I want her honest desires. All of them.
“Give me a week. I’ll make it happen,” I promise her, knowing this won’t be a problem and feeling confident about it.
Riley tilts her head and stares into my eyes as if she’s reading something hidden behind my irises. Her gaze narrows. Her mouth twitches. “And I want it to happen on July fifth,” she states, voice victorious.
“Damn,” I mumble through a grin, watching her smile stretch wider. “For a second, I thought you were going to make this easy on me.”
“Not a chance,” she chuckles. “And don’t think you’re getting off easy tonight either. We are still celebrating.” Riley pulls back and leaps from the couch, hurrying into the kitchen. She heads straight for the refrigerator, yanks open the freezer door and takes out the bottle of tequila she bought and stuck in there, holding it above her head.
I groan and drop my head back against the cushion, causing Riley to giggle before she starts hunting for glasses.
“You know what they say about that stuff—it makes you pretty. And I’m not sure you can handle me getting any more attractive, darlin’. Why don’t we celebrate with you kicking my ass in Madden some more?”
I throw out this other suggestion hoping she’ll take it, not because I hate tequila. Typically, I don’t mind drinking it. I just don’t think getting shit-faced off it right now is a good idea. Riley and I are touching again. We’re both flirting. Me more than her, but she’s giving it back. All in all though, we’re keeping things friendly.
And there’s nothing friendly about tequila.
“It only makes girls pretty. I doubt it said that in the men’s bathroom,” Riley argues. She rounds the couch and sets the bottle and shot glasses on the trunk, then she crouches behind it and pushes it closer to my knees. “There. And we don’t have any limes, so we’re drinking it straight.”
“Awesome,” I say, voice heavy with sarcasm as I sit forward more. I look at her with wide eyes as she claims the spot next to me.
Riley knocks against my shoulder. “It’ll be fun,” she says before pouring us both a shot.
“Famous last words,” I mumble.
“A ninety-seven. That’s like, so close to a perfect score, CJ. They should really just give it to me, you know? I always have gum for everybody.” Riley tosses a grape into the air, aiming to catch it in her mouth, but it hits her chin and bounces to the floor. “Ugh. I’m never going to get this.”
“Hit me.”
She smirks, leans forward, grabs another grape out of the bowl on the trunk, and tosses it at me. I bite into it.
“Show off,” she mumbles before shooting back another shot.
Her sixth.
“I agree with you. Supplying gum to the class is worth three points, at least.” I chew up my grape, laughing at Riley when she misses with another one. “Hey, you’re a perfect score in my book, darlin’. Just remember that.”
Cheesy? Yeah. But I’m one shot ahead of her so I can’t be responsible for any of the shit I’m saying right now.
And I’m saying a lot. I just told her five minutes ago I thought she was my ideal woman.
Thanks to the tequila, Riley found that to be hilarious.
She slaps her hand over her mouth and giggles until her eyes water. “Oh, my God. I got a good one. Wait.” She sets her shot glass down on the trunk, swaying a little as she rights herself, then once she’s straight, she tucks her legs underneath her and gets up on her knees so she’s hovering in front of me on the couch. One hand on the back cushion, she leans closer and points her finger at me, opens her mouth to speak, and then hesitates, closing it again. “Oh, wait. You need to sneeze first,” she prompts.
I breathe a laugh. “What?”
“You do!” She shoves at my chest, laughing. “It won’t work unless you sneeze. Come on.”
“I can’t sneeze on command.”
“Just . . . pretend sneeze.”
I stare at her, straight faced. “Ahchoo.”
Her eyes widen and her cheeks lift. “I’d say God bless you, but it looks like he already did,” she says, voice breaking with another giggle.
“Smooth.” I hold my hand up, getting a high five from her. “I can top it though.”
“Yeah? Try me.”
I shoot back my seventh shot, wince as it goes down, and point at her with the hand holding the glass. “Did you sit in sugar? `Cause you got a sweet ass, baby.”
“Yes!” She pumps her fist into the air. “Oo! How about, are you a parking ticket? `Cause you got fine written all over you.”
“Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?”
“You put the stud in bible study . . .”
I lean forward, set my glass on the trunk and slowly turn my head to look at her. “Christian pickup lines? Really?”
“What?” She shrugs, still laughing as she brushes hair out of her face using her sleeve covered hand. “I think it’s a good one. Reed fell for it. Oo! Speaking of Reed . . .”
I lean back as Riley climbs off the couch, doing it like an animal would and planting her hands on the ground first, then pulling her feet down and crawling away.
“Goof,” I chuckle. “What are you doing?”
She stands then, rushing into the kitchen, I think—I rub at my face instead of watching her. My head feels foggy. Fucking tequila. I need to stop drinking. When I lower my hands again, Riley is standing in the living room with her phone pressing to her ear.
I look at the time. It’s after one.
“Who are you calling?” I ask.
Riley holds up her finger, listening to someone on the other end of the line as she looks at the floor. Then she smiles and meets my gaze. “Reed! My brotha from the same motha! I just wanted to let you know I’m living with CJ.”
My eyes widen. What the fuck? She’s telling him?
Riley waves at me, smiling even bigger now. “It’s a business deal,” she continues into the phone, twisting her body at the waist like she’s excited about something and can’t stand still. “So, yeah, we’re roommates now . . . me and him. It’s a squad thing. You wouldn’t get it. But, anyway, I just wanted you to know that. Okay, so . . . have a good night. No! A good morning!” She giggles in delight as she lowers the phone and ends the call.