Sin & Salvation

Chapter 34

"Then she kneed him in the balls and the rest is history," I say laughing and taking a sip from my copper mug. "This mocktail is so good by the way, what did you say it was?"

"It's a peach thyme mule. Moscow mules were one of my favorite cocktails before I stopped drinking, so I've found ways to recreate it without the alcohol," he says, taking a sip from his own mug.

I nod, enjoying the fruity, herbal flavors hitting my tongue, getting comfortable on the couch as I pull my feet up underneath me. Him bringing up drinking reminds me of our conversation earlier about his dad. I want to ask him questions, but I also don't want to make him uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes on me, almost like he's reading my thoughts.

"Whatever it is you wanna ask, just spit it out," he demands, placing his mug on the glass coffee table.

"Bold of you to assume I wanted to ask you anything at all." I retort, taunting him. He gives me a knowing look, able to read my mind as always. "Fine. I was just curious why you don't drink anymore. Only if you're comfortable answering, obviously."

"It's really not that crazy of a story, honestly," he says, turning himself towards me while leaning his tan, muscular arms over the edge of the couch. "I started drinking when I was in high school. Just at parties and stuff at first. Then college came around and as most kids do, I was getting drunk pretty much every night."

Vivid memories of many drunk college nights in stranger's dirty, sweaty basements with Payton come flooding in. "You can say that again," I laugh.

"In my senior year, I got so drunk that I actually passed out and hit my head pretty hard on the edge of my bathroom sink." He moves some of the hair on his forehead and points to a faint line that runs diagonally across the right side. I can't believe I never noticed that.

"You'd think that would be the thing that woke me up and made me realize I needed to stop— but, no. I drank a little less, but still everyday. One day I realized how much it was affecting me, physically and mentally, and decided that I needed to stop. Weaned myself off and been sober since I was 25, which was about... five years ago now?"

"Wow, that's amazing. I'm proud of you, truly," I say, giving him a reassuring smile.

"I don't hear that enough, so thank you." He shoots me a smile back that melts me straight to the core.

Trying to distract myself, I say, "So if it's been five years since you were 25, that makes you—?"

"29," he says, picking his mug up and taking a long sip. "I'll be 30 next week. September 2nd."

My eyes light up. "What? That's so exciting! The big 3-0." He waves me off, clearly unimpressed. "Please tell me you at least have something planned."

His eyes meet mine for a second, guilt washing over his beautiful features. "Well I was planning on having a nice quiet weekend to myself at Brett's lake house, but seeing as he thinks we're probably together now..." he trails off, rubbing his neck.

"Fuck him," I exclaim, "you paid for it." He tries to wave me off but I continue. "It's yours, fair and square. I'll invite Payton and Jason and we can make a weekend of it. Of course, you can invite whoever you want, I just figured maybe you'd want some company," I offer, trying not to impede on his plans.

"I don't know, maybe," he pauses, looking down. "I'm not really big on celebrating my birthday. Haven't been since my mom died, anyway."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I pause, letting my words sit between us. "Not to bring the mood down or anything, but you never finished telling me the story about what happened to your Mom." He looks up at me unsure and I'm quick to follow up with, "Unless you didn't want to, that's fine too."