Forever With You (Silver State Series) Read Free Page B

looks back at me, licking his lips with an appreciative gleam in his light brown eyes, I can feel myself blushing at the same time I’m vaguely offended at his clear display of chauvinism.  I swallow, allowing myself a second to calm my nerves, then roll my shoulders back in an air of false confidence.  “Are you objectifying me, Kyle Freeman?” I ask, cocking one eyebrow at him.
    For a moment he simply stares at me blankly, but then he lets go of my shoulders and begins to laugh.  He laughs so hard I can see tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and I draw myself up to my full height and cross my arms over my chest, feeling both annoyed and slightly embarrassed.  “ What ?” I say.  “I’m a lady , not just some piece of meat.”
    He stops laughing as he wipes the moisture from his eyes, but his smile remains.  “Oh trust me, Tawny Read.  I may be drunk, but I am perfectly aware you aren’t a piece of meat.”  He leans closer so his lips are nearly touching my ear and says lowly, “You do look beautiful tonight, though.”  He draws back and winks at me before whirling around and catching my hand in his own.  “Come on,” he says over his shoulder.  “Let’s get you a drink.”
    Everything about what just happened has me feeling hopelessly off balance.  All I can do is stumble along behind him.
     
    Saturday, 1:45 AM
    I think it’s safe to say I’ve never been what you might call a serial partygoer.  The sensory overload brought on by the loud music and frenetically disinhibited crowd is almost too much to bear.  It’s been two hours since I got here, and honestly I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long.  I spent the first hour tripping along after Kyle, who held my hand for almost the entire time we were together.  It may sound sweet, but actually it felt a little like I was his kid sister and he was showing me off.
    Sometime a little before one Kyle yelled in my ear (I’m pretty sure he thought he was whispering) that he needed to use the bathroom, and I was quickly swept up by Mason Frye and Brandon McIntyre, who roped me into a game of Bullshit with three other people.  Up to that point I’d gotten away with nursing the same beer the entire night – each time Kyle asked me if I needed another drink I just lifted my bottle and indicated I’d just gotten one.  It seemed to keep him happy anyway.
    This, however, was a horse of a different color.  How do you only pretend to drink during an actual drinking game?  The answer to that is, you can’t.  Which is why it’s a blessing I actually rock at this game. 
    I’ve just managed to kick all their butts while staying pretty well sober myself when Brandon’s girlfriend walks over and sits down in Brandon’s lap.  “God, Kyle is so drunk,” she says as she sags against him, clearly not too well off herself.  I shuffle the deck of cards and pretend not to be interested in what she has to say.  “He’s basically passed out in the front room,” she continues.
    Brandon rubs her back as he replies, “He’ll be okay.  He always pulls through.”
    Idly I wonder how typical this is for Kyle.  Granted, I haven’t seen him in over a year, but in high school he always seemed a touch more dignified, like he was a cut above the hedonistic masses who only lived to party.  I’d seen him tipsy a couple of times at football tailgates, but never the sloppy, falling-down drunk other guys in our class tended to favor.
    I complete one last shuffle, arching the cards into a bridge and letting them fall back into a neat stack before replacing them in the center of the dining room table.  I scoot my chair back and rise to my feet, then stride purposefully into the front room.  Since most of the crowd is confined to the back of the house, Kyle is alone, slumped back against the sofa.  His hat lies beside him, and his dark hair falls forward over his forehead. 
    I approach him slowly, feeling a bit gun-shy.  As soon as I’m