Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [77]
We arrived in some sort of a dining area, where six other people sat around a table (seven, if you count the guy facedown in the onion dip). Various bottles covered the tabletop.
The four of us took our seats. The girl at the head of the table began reading from a pile of cards.
“Player number three, pass an ice cube to another player, using only your lips.”
Another participant slurped a cube from his glass and popped it into the mouth of the girl sitting on his lap.
Ah, a drunken party game. There was a board and spinner, but I think everyone was beyond such details.
“Player number four, chug your drink while humming ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”
My brain felt like it had been massaged with Elmer’s glue. I found a mostly full bottle of cola and poured drinks for myself and the two girls. Being a gentleman, I took the cup with the cigarette ashes.
We’d sit here for a few rounds. A nice, silly game, and a safe place to leave Sage when Erin and I took our walk. Erin, in fact, didn’t look like she was enjoying herself at all, so we’d have to go fairly soon.
“Player number five, kiss another player on the lips.”
I turned to see who would be doing the kissing. Just to the left of the guy who’d drunk to the national anthem sat … Sage.
Everyone was staring at her. She didn’t look panicked, but she didn’t look comfortable, either. Several guys at the table were trying to catch her eye.
Sage smiled a naughty smile and kissed me rapidly on the cheek. As the game master picked up another card, Dalton objected.
“On the lips. C’mon!”
In order to avoid further argument and humiliation, I leaned in to give a quick kiss to the air in front of her face, figuring no one would know the difference. Sage zigged when she should have zagged, unfortunately, and our front teeth cracked painfully against each other.
Erin stood up, annoyed, and looked at me intently. That was my cue. Exit Logan, stage left. I guess I hesitated too long, because she turned and stormed out. Sage stared at me, then gestured after Erin with her head. I could follow her if I wanted to.
But I didn’t. The thought of chasing after a girl I barely knew, apologizing for something I wasn’t sure of, and walking off to a nonspecific location suddenly seemed like a dull task. It was easier just to stay here with my new friends and act silly with Sage. Sage was comfortable, familiar. At the moment, that’s all I wanted.
“Player number six”—Dalton pointed his finger hat at me—“do your best belly dancer impression.”
I groaned and attempted to stand. Sage cracked a smile. Something told me this would be a night I’d remember for a long time, whether I wanted to or not.
chapter twenty-seven
THE PARTY BROKE UP around four in the morning out of sheer inertia. Bleary-eyed Greeks halfheartedly attempted to remember where they’d left their jackets, keys, and girlfriends. A tearful sorority chick screamed, “Don’t talk to me!” to her boyfriend, who was passed out in another room. A man in a football jacket stumbled across someone’s attempt at a beer can pyramid.
Dalton had become horizontally drunk by the time we’d finished the game. I helped one of his frat brothers drag him to his room and deposit him, fully clothed, on his bed. When I returned downstairs, I found Sage waiting at the front door. Her hair was brushed, her makeup more or less in place, her jacket hung neatly over her arm. She was mostly sober; I think she’d been nursing the same rum and Coke since we’d all gone to the backyard to watch two drunks attempt to fistfight.
I’d been less discriminating. While I hadn’t pounded back the shots like Dalton, there’d been a beer in my hand throughout the evening. Several beers. I had no idea where my sweater was, I suffered from temporary hearing loss, and I had the strongest desire to drink a gallon of ice-cold water.
“You ready to go, Logan?” Sage was smirking at me. I ran my fingers through my hair to make sure I didn’t still have that bra on my head.
“Yeah. No. We have to wait