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23, 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

A few drinks later and I'm stumbling over my shoelaces. The music is really loud now and everyone has had a few drinks. I stumble over to the kitchen, hoping to get something else to drink. My eyes drift to the sight of Nick sprawled out all over the floor, a slice of pizza sitting on his chest. He must be asleep.

I snort quietly, only to be shoved head first into a hard wall.

Rubbing my now dizzy head, I glance up at the figure. It's Skeppy—Zak.

"Woah, hey, you okay?" he laughs, hanging onto my arms.

I nod repeatedly. "Yeah. I'm great. Just enjoying the music."

"By tripping over yourself?"

"Yes. But to the beat, of course."

He laughs. "Right."

I reach over for another drink but he beats me to it, handing me a can of something. I smile gratefully and take it from him.

We observe the room for a moment, both leaning against the kitchen island again. Darryl is still singing along to something—but, this time, his voice lingers and he drawls every word. That doesn't stop him from being so loud as he sings along to Barbie Girl; Maia and Celestia join in, linking their arms together and howling.

"Mr BadBoyHalo's very good at karaoke, isn't he?"

Zak laughs. "Don't even. I have to deal with this every day over call."

"Aw, come on," I coo. "It's cute."

He looks at me for a moment longer than necessary, glancing down for a second and then back up at my eyes. "I can think of cuter things."

My eyes widen. I sincerely cannot help the blush staining my cheeks. It could just be the alcohol though.

A few people have called me cute tonight. I must be catfishing well.

I clear my throat quickly. "You're awfully bold for someone that hasn't drunk anything."

"Must be my personality."

I shrug. "That doesn't mean you shouldn't have a few drinks."

"Can't," he groans. "I'm driving."

"You're driving?"

"Yeah. And Bad's like stupid drunk so that's even more of a reason for me to be sober."

"Wow," I mutter to myself, eyes still wide. "The thought that you can drive scares me."

He smiles. "Why's that?"

"It reminds me that you're an adult. Skeppy the adult."

I cover my mouth as soon as the words come out. Stupid. I've probably offended him. It's just that his online persona is so childish and loud and it's funny to think that a guy who spends his money on putting kids in boxes can drive carefully.

When I look back up at him, he doesn't seem offended.

Amusement flickers in his dark eyes. "You're funny when you're drunk."

"I'm always funny."

"Funny-looking maybe."

"That was a bad joke, Skeppy."

"Zak. It's Zak."

"Yo, Zak."

Wait, I didn't say that.

I flick my head around to see Clay standing behind me. His pretty boy eyes are narrowed at me and his dark-blonde hair is messy from the long night.

"Hey. Clay."

"I need to show Az something," he announces, not looking away from me.

I look at the distant wall, trying to avoid his gaze.

Zak nods. "Uh, sure."

Clay grabs hold of my hand and leads me away. His grip is gentle but firm, like he's scared of hurting me but hellbent on getting me away from there. I stare at our intertwined fingers, my eyes widening. I can already feel my palms starting to sweat. Again, maybe it's the alcohol making my body hotter?

Who am I kidding?

"Uh, Clay," I start. He doesn't respond but I continue anyway. "You know how you thought Celestia was flirting with you and you told me straightaway? Well, I think maybe—but this could be the alcohol talking—that Zak—"

He sighs at the mention of his name. "I know."

"Oh," I say pathetically. I'm not thinking, that's for sure, except for about how big Nick's shoe rack is as we're in the front corridor. "Where are you taking me?" I ask.

"Just outside."

He opens the door and leads us outside. He lets go of my hand and I stop. He turns, his eyes meeting mine again. He seems serious. Then he looks away.

Silence.

"You don't have anything to show me, do you?" I mutter quietly, holding my hands together behind my back.

He scratches the back of his head. "No..."

"Ah."

We stand in more silence. I survey the outside of the house. It's actually quite a nice house for a nineteen-year-old guy like Nick. The front lawn is wide and long enough to have a barbecue party. Add that to the list...

"I hate awkward silences," Clay says suddenly, drawing my attention to him.

"So do I," I say. "But you're the one that dragged me out here."

"I tend to drag people out," he jokes, referring to the many people who showed up at the party.

"Yeah, I know." I think back to our previous conversation. "I don't get it, Clay. I thought you didn't like them. Celestia and Maia."

"You do."

"You literally kicked them out of the chat the other day. You told me they couldn't come."

He shakes his head, smiling softly. "I couldn't let you think that I liked them. Then maybe you'd catch on to the surprise."

Right.

"So you surprised all of us," I remark quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"Nick was surprised by all three of us showing up. George was surprised by Maia showing up. I'm surprised by the girls," I list. Then I scoff. "Not to mention I'm surprised by you."

He raises his brows. "By me?"

"Well, you come off as this arrogant douchebag. I mean, your favourite subreddit is your own and your favourite block is clay," I say, unable to suppress my smile. "But you're actually really sweet."

There's a short silence.

"Could you say that again?"

I blink, and continue in a robotic voice: "Even though you're a piece of shit, dickish tyrant—"

"That's not what I wanted to hear again," he interrupts.

"—you also make it really hard not to like you."

"Thanks," he says softly. He looks at me for a long time, studying me from my eyes.

I laugh to surpass my nerves, hoping my voice isn't too shaky. "I kind of feel bad now that we couldn't surprise you with anything."

"Aspen," he murmurs, putting a strand of my hair behind my ears. His smile goes lop-sided as his dimples are prodded. "You've given me more than enough."

"You're right. I let you sleep on my sofa one time," I say sarcastically. I can still feel the warmth of his fingers. The familiarity of even such a small touch sends shivers down my spine.

"You've done more than that. "Trust me."

"Yeah," I breathe. "I let you kiss me three times."

We both go quiet. I tried being bold, but I don't know if that worked. I'm definitely drunk enough for it to have worked. But did it? Why is it so quiet?

"You remember the third time?" he breathes, avoiding my eyes.

It was when I was drunk. I couldn't remember it initially. If anything, I thought it was a dream. But the more I matched that dream to the previous events of that night, the faster I was able to piece the events of the entire night together. He kissed me, but he pulled away.

"You thought I'd forget?"

He seems cautious. "You were drunk."

"That's not a good enough reason for me to forget," I murmur, smiling. "What's a little alcohol compared to a little infatuation?"

His smile widens. "Infatuation, huh?"

"We've had this conversation, Clay. 'I like you, I like you too'..."

"I remember."

Silence.

I hear him suck in a breath. "I didn't like watching Zak flirt with you."

"Aw, don't be such a pissbaby, Wittle Cway," I mock. "Besides, it's not like I was asking for it."

"You weren't," he says. "It still made me mad though."

I smile slightly. "Possessive Dream? DreamWasJealous?"

"Not funny."

"It really is."

He shakes his head again, unable to suppress his grin. "Don't play with my feelings, Az."

"I'm not. You're playing with mine, if anything," I joke. "If you don't like seeing guys flirt with me, then do something about it. I make tons of moves. It's your turn. The ball is in your court."

He blinks. "It is?"

"You have no game."

"I do have game. I'm a Minecraft world record holder," he says sarcastically.

"That says nothing about your flirting skills."

"Listen, I'm saving all of my good moves."

"Well, I'm impatient," I snap matter-of-factly.

He scoffs, amused. "You're impatient."

"Yes."

"Really."

"Really, Clay."

"You're sure."

"Yes!"

And he smashes his lips onto mine.

It's a bold kiss. I lean into him, running my hands up his chest and letting them roam his hair again. I kiss him back, realising that I wanted this more than I thought I did. Slowly, he pulls away, his eyes amused. My face is furiously red.

"I can't believe I kissed you when you were drunk. Again," he mutters.

My eyes soften. I glance back down at his lips. "I'll save you the torture and kiss you first instead."

...

Before I open the door to go back in, Clay flicks my forehead. "So does this mean we're going out?"

"Like boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Cheesy contact names and all."

"Hmm," I say, stroking my imaginary beard. "I might have to think about it."

He laughs. "We're going to get a million questions when we walk through that door. If we're not dating, I'm leaving you to come up with a better explanation."

"That is a lot of thinking."

"Yes," he says, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Your drunk little brain can't handle that much thinking."

"Fine," I say finally, with an ironic sigh. I shake my head at the guy. "I give in. I will hereby give you the pleasure of being my sugar daddy boyfriend."

He flicks me again. "You're such an idiot."

I scrunch my nose at him, rubbing my forehead. "No, you."

"I can't believe I like you."

"Ditto, idiot."

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