Caught in the Flames (13 page)

“Did you just call me a bitch?” I say. I’m met with two blank stares.

“I’m sorry? Who are you, sweetie?” Knock Out’s voice is full of sugar and venom. Damn it. Where are my girls when I need them?

“Callie. I’m with Chase—”

“We know exactly who you are.” Tigress blinks twice before meeting Knock Out’s gaze. “Let’s go before Tiff gets here.” They both leave, brushing my shoulders as they walk past like I’m not standing here. What the fuck—? Alicia’s lyrical giggle pulls my gaze out of the kitchen to where she’s barely standing upright despite her one arm draped over an attractive looking guy. The guy seems less intoxicated, what with his attentive gaze focused down her top.

Jill emerges from the hallway. Her eyes dart around to locate Alicia and then me. She bugs them out at me and points to our shitfaced friend. I nod and meet her at the scene of the drunken spectacle.

“Alicia, let’s get you some water,” Jill suggests, calm and practical.

“Water! The only water I’ll be having tonight is this tall drink,” Alicia slurs to the guy she’s using as a handrail. “Dan! Dan. Danny. Danny my man. You have to show the girls your six pack.”

Danny Boy smirks, pulls his shirt up and flexes, revealing well defined abdominals.

“Cool party trick,” Jill deadpans, causing me to smirk.

Alicia giggles. “Danny, can I call you Rick? You look like a Rick.”

“Baby, you can call me anything you like,” he says as if we weren’t here, his gaze back on Alicia’s rack. Jill catches my eyes and rolls hers.

“Tricky Ricky. That’s what I’mma call you. Tricky Ricky with the less than average dicky.” This apparently is the only thing Alicia’s said all night to warrant direct eye contact from Rick.

Or was it Dan? He pulls back from my friend and she stumbles before Jill and I each take a side to steady her. “I do not have an average dick! Take it back!”
Oh, God! What, are we in middle school?
I stifle a giggle.

At that exact moment the music pulsing through the speakers turns to one of our favorite songs by The Pussycat Dolls.

Alicia screams with glee and on cue she, Jill, and I dance and sing along. I know we look stupid, but I have to join in. It’s part of the girlfriend code. Some songs are just like that. We scream the lyrics at the top of our lungs. It’s obnoxious, sure, but nobody remaining at the party seems to mind. In fact, a few of the guys gather and shout words of encouragement. Well, as encouraging as twentysomething drunk men can be.

I’m having fun and when the song ends we walk outside, arm in arm to learn where Chase disappeared to. It’s complex work leading a hammered Alicia down the stairs, but Jill and I successfully maneuver her to flat land and follow the boisterous voices to the covered parking behind the apartment.

The boys have assembled a long folding table and divided into teams for flip cup. Chase stands at the end of the table across from his gloating brother. A few other people mill around observing the drinking game. I don’t know if it’s my imagination but Chase’s team seems to wobble as they stand.

The cups are consumed and flipped down the line, arriving at both Chase and Cameron within seconds of each other. Cameron flips his cup on the first try whereas Chase doesn’t. Cameron laughs as his team cheers and high fives.

“Again!” Chase shouts and that’s when I catch his gaze. The chocolate that’s always a little melted appears burnt. He blinks several times before he smiles and waves me over. “I’m subbing my losers out,” Chase says in a voice that’s gone all slurry.

“You’re subbing for girls?” Cameron scoffs. He appraises me, Alicia, and Jill as we walk over to the table. “No offense, but I think you just traded one losing team for another, little brother.”

“Fuck you, man,” Chase says to Cameron. He dismisses Troy, Lopez, and some guy I’ve never met, and we take our places. Tigress and Knock Out murmur and giggle from behind Cameron.

Underdogs.
That’s what everyone assumes we are, but I already told Chase in one of our late night conversations about the longstanding legacy of flip cup championship I share with my girls, so really, he knows he’s holding a secret weapon. I attempt to telepathically communicate to Alicia and Jill how important it is we school the other team as our cups are filled with cheap beer. We order ourselves with strategy; lush face Alicia at the start, Jill second, and me next to the closer, Chase.

“You girls ready?” Cameron asks but his eyes don’t leave his brother’s. Chase just glares back. “One, two, three, flip!”

Alicia chugs her beer like the pro she is and only takes two tries before landing her cup. The first guy takes his time drinking and lands his cup on the first flip in a showboating manner, placing our teams neck and neck. Jill’s a pro and doesn’t disappoint, earning us a precious seconds’ lead. I gulp the beer that tastes like college and bad decisions but power through in record time. I land my cup with a loud belch, earning a chorus of cheers from the crowd.

Cameron yells at his teammate, shouting to hurry the fuck up, and is obviously pissed when the guy doesn’t land his cup. Chase finishes his cup and flips once. The red Solo bounces to a sideways roll. He attempts again. Cameron curses, but it’s finally his turn to drink up.

“Come on, Chase! You’ve got this!” I cheer as he misses a second flip. He sets up the third just as Cameron finishes his cup. Chase knocks his cup onto the table and it lands a fraction of a second before Cameron’s does the same. The entire crowd, now at least twenty people, cheers in a mix of enthusiasm, disappointment, shock, and unfiltered joy. Alicia and Jill grip my arms and we bounce the best we can to celebrate the fact we haven’t lost our college skills.

Alicia’s eyes widen and she drops her hands, turns, and runs to the nearby bushes to empty the contents of her stomach on the unsuspecting shrubbery.

“Fuck you, Cam! Station Ten just kicked your ass!” Chase shouts, pointing at his brother with a cocky, manic grin. The laughter and smack talk are deafening. Everyone from Ten starts chanting “Hugh, Hugh, Hugh . . .”

Chase picks me up and spins us both around. I can’t help but laugh at his joy and the fact I’ve brought this man so much happiness. “You’re the best, Callie,” he whispers in my ear before he sets me down and then kisses me passionately, right there in front of everyone. Cat calls and wolf whistles replace the chanting but I don’t care. They can stare and make fun all they want. This man is mine, and the way his lips move with mine sets my entire body on fire.

“Station Ten kicked your asses, Twenty-two. I guess we know who the better brother is.” Troy says with a drunken slur as Chase and I finally break apart.

“Only because Chase’s bitch did it for him,” a woman’s voice snarks back. I snap out of my lusty state to lock eyes with the Wicked Witch of the Pancakes.
Fuck
. When did she get here?

Chase lunges out of my reach and toward the woman, but two of his buddies have quick reflexes and hold him back.

“Easy, Tiff,” Cameron warns the woman. He levels her with a glare as he steps between her and Chase.

“Take it back,” Chase grinds out, still struggling against his friends.

The snotty, beautiful women from earlier flank Pancake Bitch’s side. “Come on Tiff, let’s go,” Knock Out says. “You’re better than this trash.” Tigress sends me a pointed glare.

“Fine. Let’s go. This party sucks anyway,” Tiff says to no one in particular. “Have fun with your party,
Hugh
.” This time she locks eyes with my boyfriend. I don’t know what comes over me but I go for her, claws out and anger blazing, but I stumble when Jill holds me in place. Chase breaks out of his friends’ hold and dives again. Cameron turns in time to hold Chase back.

“Go home, Tiff. Get her out of here,” Cameron yells at the girls. “Come on brother, let’s get your drunk ass home.” He braces one hand on Chase’s shoulder.

Chase’s angry posture deflates as he meets his brother’s eyes and it’s only then he turns away from the retreating women. The moment Chase’s stare meets mine he drops his gaze.

“Everyone back inside!” Cameron shouts and everyone stumbles back toward the apartment.

“Do you want to go or stay?” Jill loosens her hold on my arms to grip my hand and squeeze.

“What did I miss?” Alicia staggers over, bright eyed and surprisingly lucid.

“That was Pancake Bitch, right?” Jill asks and I just nod.

“What happened? She his ex or something?” Alicia repeats.

“Fuck if I know.” Jill glances at me from the corner of her eye. “Maybe we should go.”

Maybe we
should
leave. I glance at the pathway that leads back to the apartment. Back to Chase. Unless he already left with his brother. I want to make sure he’s okay. I want to know who Tiff is to him. He’s my boyfriend, but our relationship is so new that I don’t know my place here.

“I guess we should go home,” I say.

But Alicia shakes her head. “Hell, no! No. There is no way we leave this place, slinking away with our tails between our legs,” she declares valiantly, and weaves her arm through mine and then Jill’s. She marches us back toward the apartment and up the set of stairs.

“We don’t cower in the face of danger, or more likely, jealous ex-girlfriends. We are brave. We are fierce. We make our mark. If we were dogs we’d piss all over this place,” she announces as we step inside.

All eyes meet ours when we enter the room. Less than a dozen guys remain and their conversation hushes as Chase glances up from an empty shot glass while Cameron sits at his left ready with a bottle of amber liquor. My heart stops—it waits for him and I can’t breathe—until Chase’s lips pull, slow and steady into a brilliant smile. All my worries fade as my pulse picks up, rapid fire, and my own smile hurts my face.

“Callie.” He grins and then motions for me to come to him.

“It’s the flip cup champs!” Troy shouts and everyone cheers. Soon we’re enveloped in the embraces of half drunken men, privy to stories of calls gone wrong, and welcomed into the fold as if we were one of the guys. Apparently, flip cup play perfected in college truly is a valuable life skill. Jill joins in the banter, arguing and giving as good as the boys—entertainment for all. Alicia flirts the night away, never landing on one man tonight, but sharing the wealth and inflating egos in her wake. I sit on Chase’s lap through most of the party, sharing laughs and shots with my best friends and Chase’s best friends. He steals kisses between drinks and I let him.

I should ask him about the woman. I want to know about her, but no one else brings it up, and we’re having such a great time it would be a shame to ruin it. I push the skirmish of earlier to the back corner of my mind. The lazy smile of my boyfriend and the alcohol we drink does wonders for my temporary memory loss.

I fucking hate parties.

Why?
Why did I drink so much last night? I dry heave into my porcelain throne. Nothing but stomach acid remains. Puking your guts out for hours will do that to a person.

Why?
Why have I not learned from my past sins? Now I remember why we honed our flip cups skills back in college. It was to avoid episodes like this. I should have stopped drinking after the game. Watching Alicia empty her stomach—that alone should have been warning enough, but no . . . I had to show the big bad fire boys that I could hang like a champ. And I
hung
. I hung until two o’clock in the morning. But that last shot was a mistake. As soon as it went down I knew it wasn’t staying for long.

Nothing like having to Uber home from the party. Jill was supposed to DD, and under normal circumstances she takes that role very seriously, but I play some part in her decision to get plastered. We needed her for flip cup, and it was all downhill from there. Great first impression to Chase’s friends. Though, from what little I recall, I don’t think the company he keeps looks down on that sort of behavior. I still wish I had stopped drinking. Then I could have basked in the joy of showing everyone how fun I can be. Instead, between hurls into the toilet, I’m picking through the pieces of last night to remember exactly what happened.

I curl up on the hardwood floor in my master bathroom and wad a bathroom towel into a makeshift pillow.

I recall the flip cup victory.

The almost altercation with Pancake Bitch.
Tiff
. That’s her name.

Back inside to Chase. Drinks. Laughs. Kisses.

Alicia making out with at least two of the guys from the station on the couch in front of everyone. Troy first and later with Pants. I assume Pants is his nickname. And she may have flashed a boob.

Jill arguing with Cameron and then disappearing down the hall with him for thirty minutes. Or maybe it was longer? They totally hooked up. I need to ask her about that.

More kissing my boyfriend.

Then it’s just shots, shots, shots, until Jill dragged me outside and into her Uber sometime in the early morning. Funny, I don’t remember when Alicia left the party, but it must have been before us.

Cameron insisted he’d get my man home safe and for that I’m thankful. There’s no way I’d want Chase to see me in my current state.

Ugh.

My stomach rolls. My head pulses with a deep pounding pain and I close my eyes. The morning sun attempts to sneak inside and overwhelm my senses but I extend my foot to swing the door closed. I let myself find temporary peace in another hour of sleep on the makeshift cocoon of my bathroom floor.