Roll the Dice

seven. i'll know

[Dedicated to Sev because she's such a brilliant author who managed to pull my heart apart with her Camp NaNo book. Also, she's a fantastic cabin mate who is not afraid to be brash with her sense of humor in all our chats.]

Standing by the punch table with a cup in my hand and feeling a little like a flummoxed loser, I stared, mouth slightly agape, at my brother laugh as he sipped from his cup of spiked punch and watched Dacey rather animatedly tell him a story.

Leaning back on the punch table while still being careful to not knock over the punch bowl, I took another sip from my cup. Damn. My best friend actually had a shot at getting with her crush, which really still horrified me even though I had reluctantly agreed to help her. Her love life looked a lot different from my own – which really shouldn't have horrified me so much since she was like the experienced, boy-crazy older sister to my socially awkward, geeky younger sister.

"Don't worry," said Cara as she slid next to me with a red solo cup in hand. "Neither of them will remember what happens tonight." She elbowed me, grinning wildly as the golden light from the bonfire flickered over her face. "They'll ask us tomorrow, and we can mess with their heads as much as we want."

"You're devious," I muttered to her out of the side of my mouth. I drank from my cup. "But seriously, Cara."

She shrugged, looping her arm through mine. I turned to her, lifting an eyebrow and scanning her face. She was definitely at least tipsy, judging by the way her head was slightly wobbling and her teeth were clicking together.

"What?" she exhaled loudly into my face. I turned to my elbow, coughing heavily – God, she wasn't just tipsy. Her breath alone was probably enough to get ten young children drunk with a single inhale. "I'm the evil and philosophical drunk, remember?"

She wiggled her eyebrows.

I shoved her away a couple inches, still sputtering. "The sad truth of the matter," I muttered into my elbow, "is that I'm stuck with you, a very inferior version of your sober self. And Dacey's off, canoodling with my brother –" I broke off, waving my arm in the direction of the lovebirds.

Cara slung her arm over my shoulder, seeming to hang off of me like a very heavy, life-size version of a ragdoll. I squeaked, stumbling a little to the other side. Heavy, heavy, heavy. God, if she squeezed her arms around me any tighter, she was going to strangle me like she was my execution noose.

"You are gonna love me," she sang out, her eyes glinting maliciously as she pinched my left cheek. "I am going to break" – she snapped her fingers right in front of my eyes – "them apart for you. That's because you take way too much pleasure in seeing failed relationships because you have a failed relationship."

I was probably displaying symptoms of severe asthma by now because of Cara...I stifled a giggle. "My dear," I responded, feeling a little like sober Dacey in her older sister persona, "I'm not even in a relationship to start with, so it can't exactly fail."

Cara rolled her eyes. "Honey, you've been sober for too long." She glanced into my cup, which I jerked away from her face with a disgruntled grumble. "Are you seriously drinking the punch that we made?" she asked, eyes wide open. "Wimp."

She began to drag me to the table with the spiked punch that was mostly alcohol and not so much actual punch, and for once, I didn't resist. Maybe I could try my best to forget that disgusting sight of my brother and my best friend hooking arms.

Hooking arms.

For goodness' sake.

I downed the cup of almost pure vodka in one gulp, ignoring the silky sand in which my feet were sinking and the fading red light far away on the horizon. And everything else too. Maybe then I could look at Dom without dying inside – that would be a huge plus, wouldn't it?