A Love Letter to Whiskey
Page 66

But it wasn’t over yet.
“You know, most girls would have been annoying in this situation,” Charlie said to me later that night when we were all sitting around the fire. Jamie was in the middle of telling Andrew a story and Ryan had already passed out in his tent.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged, still not smiling. He never smiled. “I don’t know. Some girls say they’re ‘one of the guys’, but really that just means they fake interest in sports or cars or something else to seem cool and secretly hope they’ll get pined after. I kind of expected you to be like that.”
“And did I surprise you?”
“Kind of.” He sniffed. “I mean, you clearly know nothing about sports, but you don’t pretend to. You’re just yourself. And it should be weird for you to be camping with a group of guys, but it’s not. You’re not flirting with any of us, you’re not saying stupid shit.” I thought he was going to continue, it sounded that way, but he just stopped talking, and I cracked a smile.
“So then why only kind of?”
Charlie drained the last of his beer, crushing the cup and tossing it into the bag we’d set aside for recycling. “You may not be a fake chick trying to be one of the guys, but you are in love with Jamie.” His hard eyes landed on me then and the smile fell from my lips. “You’re keeping your cool on the surface, but I see it. You and Jamie are both playing with fire, and I don’t want to be here when everything goes up in flames.”
My heart was racing, and as much as I wanted to be pissed at his accusatory tone, I didn’t blame him for it. “I wouldn’t… I would never…”
He stood. “I don’t doubt you. But you’re also not the one I’m worried about.” His eyes were on Jamie then, and Jamie’s were on me. I looked back up at Charlie, and he cocked a brow. “You wouldn’t make the first move, but what would you do if he did?”
I opened my mouth, but clamped it shut again because the question was rhetorical. Charlie didn’t even wait for an answer.
“See you guys in the morning,” he called over the fire, retreating into his tent before anyone responded.
“Yeah, I should probably turn in, too,” Andrew said.
Jamie threw his arms up, spilling a little beer out of his cup with the motion. “Oh come on! It’s not even one yet!”
“You get married tomorrow, remember champ?” Andrew said, smiling and clapping Jamie on the back as he stood. “We all have to be up and out of here pretty early.”
Jamie laughed. “Yeah yeah, fine. Pansies.”
Andrew flicked him off and I chuckled as he disappeared into his tent.
“What about you over there?” Jamie asked, eying me over the edge of his cup as he took a drink.
Charlie’s words were in my head, and I almost told Jamie I was going to turn in, too. But he was clearly nervous about the next day, that’s what I saw that the other guys had missed, and he wasn’t ready to sleep. Everyone else had bailed, but I wasn’t going to do that to him. Shaking off Charlie’s warning, I moved to sit in the chair next to Jamie.
“Sleep is overrated.”
He smiled, his glazed eyes holding mine. “You’re the best, B.”
“And don’t you forget it.” I cheers-ed his plastic cup with mine and we both drank, not needing to say anything else.
For a while we just talked, a little about the wedding and a lot about everything but. Somehow we ended up on our phones, taking turns showing each other stupid videos on YouTube and laughing until we cried. I’d just pulled up a video of a prank gone wrong that I knew Jamie would get a kick out of when nature called.
“Here, watch this,” I said, shoving my phone into his hands and standing. “I have to find a bush to pee in.”
He laughed. “Gross.”
I curtsied, then skipped off behind the tents.
I had almost made it. I had almost escaped the weekend without much more than a bruised heart. But when I made my way back to the fire, Jamie held my phone in his hand, but he wasn’t looking at it anymore. His elbows were on his knees, eyes on the flames, and I could see the wheels spinning. I slowed as I reached him, not even bothering to take my seat. I just stared at him, the dirt stains on his t-shirt, the way the firelight battled the shadows of the night on his face. It felt like an eternity stretched between us before he stood, holding my phone screen-side out toward me. “You kept my voicemails?”
I glanced at the screen, seeing my voicemail log, all filled with his name. I swallowed, taking the phone from him and clicking the screen light off before tucking it in my back pocket, my hand staying there. “Yes.”
“You used to listen to them, those years when I was at Alder.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
He nodded, swallowing. “Do you still listen to them?”
An ache zinged through my chest and I crossed my arms over it. “Sometimes.”
Jamie lifted his eyes to me then, brows pinched together. “Why? You can call me, B. Anytime.”
I laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think your fiancé would have appreciated another woman calling you at two in the morning.”
His eyes fell to my legs, and for a moment I thought he was going to argue with me, but he thought better of it. Up until that point, Jamie had been fooling himself. He thought he could marry Angel and keep me, too — but he couldn’t. Not the way he wanted to. I didn’t envy him, because I knew he loved her — I knew he cared for her. But he was a slave to the way he felt about me. I knew, because I was in the same shackles.
“We should get some sleep,” he finally said.
“Yeah” I sighed, tucking my hair behind my ear before sliding past him toward my tent. “Night.”
My shoulder brushed his bicep as I passed, and his hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. I stilled, and he pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around my waist. At first I stood there, arms still by my side, but slowly, I trailed them up over his arms to latch my hands behind him. He buried his face into my neck, barely breathing, and the fire crackled next to us, giving the air the energy to keep us spellbound.
“Goodnight,” he said, but he was still holding me. His hands gripped my waist, and a low groan rumbled in his throat. That one sound was directly linked to the heat that had settled in a pool low in my stomach and it sprung to life, filling me, clouding my head. Jamie angled just an inch, his lips grazing the skin of my neck, and I shivered. His breath was hot, laced with alcohol and the same honey sweetness I remembered so well. Just that one touch from his lips sent flashes of our nights together behind my eyes — his fingers inside me on the beach, his mouth on me in his kitchen, his eyes on me while I touched myself for him miles away in Pittsburgh. It all rushed in, and it was too much. My self-control was already a futile thing, and now it was virtually deceased.