Fairest by Beth Bishop Page A

around me to glare at Linc. Linc tried to shift a bit and shrugged. “Sorry, man. Not much room, and my arm’s falling asleep.”
    Linc took advantage of our proximity by poking my thigh each time he wanted to ask a question about the movie, which was annoyingly frequent. I kept trying to shift into a more comfortable position, but it just wasn’t possible. The air in the room seemed infused with smoke and liquor, making me even more claustrophobic.
    I grew even more uncomfortable when Sicily started making out with Derrick. When his hand went up her skirt and out of sight, Whit cleared his throat loudly. Sicily mouthed something unladylike to Whit. Then, she and Derrick went upstairs. One of the other girls nudged one of the guys in the floor with her foot, and they left, too.
    At the halfway point in the movie, I took a bathroom break. For a few minutes, I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink. I was tired, and my eyes were red from all the smoke. I wanted to be at my daddy’s or, even better, already in New Orleans. I looked down at my watch to find it was past one.
    â€œLess than twelve hours. You can do it,” I said.
    Someone pounded on the door, making me jump. When I opened the door, Mike shoved past me, skidded onto his knees in front of the toilet, and puked. I squeaked in surprise and quickly exited the bathroom.
    Since I hadn’t had anything to drink since dinner, I was terribly thirsty. I wandered down the hall into the kitchen. It took up half of the room with a table and chairs for six filling the other half. After searching the cabinets, I found the one with glasses, got one down, and filled it at the tap. I guzzled it.
    â€œWater?” Whit asked, his voice slow from being tipsy. A lit cigarette dangled between his fingers. He paused, took a drag, and then walked over to me. He twisted his lips sideways, so that he wouldn’t blow smoke in my face, and propped against the counter next to me.
    â€œI was thirsty,” I explained, refilling my glass. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
    â€œWhen I’m drunk.” He took another drag.
    â€œAre you having fun?”
    He smiled and turned so that he faced me. “Not as much as I could.”
    â€œI’m sure. Look.” I put my hand on his chest to keep him from inching up on me. “My flight is at noon. I’m ready to go to bed, so where am I sleeping?”
    â€œYou could just sleep upstairs until we all go to the big house. I could even lay down with you to make sure no one messes with you.”
    I pursed my lips. “That’s a lovely offer, but I’d rather just go to sleep.”
    â€œSkye,” he complained and jabbed his cigarette out against the inside of the sink. “I’m trying to tell you that I want to make out with you.”
    â€œOh, I got that,” I assured him. “It’s just that I’m not interested in kissing or making out with you when you smell like smoke and a Jack Daniels distillery.”
    His eyes went wide. “Are you related to them?”
    â€œNo.” I sighed. “Where did you put my bag?”
    â€œIn the big house, second floor, third door on the left.” He lifted an eyebrow and turned on the charm. “Want me to come and tuck you in?”
    I patted his chest. “I’ll pass.”
    I set the glass in the sink. When I left the kitchen, he followed me; however, when we got to the living area, he went back to the sofa. Even though I turned down his offer of making out, I expected him to at least give me a peck on the cheek or wish me good night. Instead, he leaned over and spoke to Mary Beth, which I took as an official end to our “date”. I set my shoulders and headed for the door. When I opened it, a few heads turned toward the sound, including Linc’s.
    â€œWhere you going, Skye?” he asked.
    â€œBed. Enjoy.” I waved a hand at the TV. “It was nice meeting you