Roll the Dice

twenty-eight. nicely-nicely johnson

[Dedicated to all my readers, whether they are silent or not. You all make me smile so much every time I upload a chapter, and I am so sincerely grateful for everyone. (And yes, it is a week too early for Thanksgiving here in the U.S.)]

I swore that if anyone wished me happy birthday again, I would throw an entire box of cupcakes at everyone in the vicinity, even if that included Dom, who was watching me with an amused glint in his eyes.

Really, I didn't get how difficult it was to get the damn facts straight: I was not yet eighteen. I was still very much a youthful seventeen-year-old who was so not ready to face the adult world yet, and I needed no reminder of what was to face me in six months when I did turn eighteen. Even though some people didn't quite understand, I still maintained the belief that I had to enjoy what was happening right here, right now.

(One of those people was Cara, whose favorite question to ask seniors was, "In what would you like to major in which university?" Frankly, the very phrasing of that question made my head spin, so I avoided answering it as well as I could.)

Finally, my fuse snapped when Evan, who I thought knew me well enough, ambled by with a little package in his hands and very cheerily said, "Happy birthday, Lottie!"

Even though I gritted my teeth, inhaling very deeply and carefully through my nose, my frustration must have shone through, because Evan's expression wavered, and a little gingerly, he ventured, "You all right there?"

"No!" I snapped, snatching the package out of his hands and setting it a little too forcefully in Dom's hands. "No, I am not okay because I am not eighteen yet, and I don't like how you're reminding me of that." My voice cracked a little at the end, and Dom patted my shoulder. I couldn't see his expression, but if I was right, his expression was probably half amused and half concerned.

Dom was such a butt.

Evan's blue eyes grew wider, and he held up a hand, taking a step back. "Well..." he started slowly, "I didn't know you were so...sensitive about that topic, so I'll just..." His voice trailed off. "I'll just, uh"—a little frantically, he looked around until his eyes landed on the food table—"head over there."

Then, he scrambled away so quickly that I swore he could out-scamper a squirrel if he really, really tried. I found myself wiping a tear out of the corner of my eye—I really was that sensitive about that, was I?—and sniffed. I scanned the vicinity to see if anyone was going to mess up my birthday, and luckily for me, everyone seemed a little too occupied with food to notice me. That was great.

Snickering, Dom slung an arm over my shoulder and put Evan's package back firmly into my hands. Immediately, I was surrounded by his warmth and clean smell, and I smiled weakly, leaning my head into his shoulder. My heartbeat sped up its pace just a little. And that was the effect of Dom—total oblivion.

"You're so dramatic, Lottie," he said in such a low voice into my ear that I didn't quite register exactly what he was saying until a couple seconds later.

I started defensively and sent him my most murderous glare, sniffing once again. That was a mistake because everything I had to say faded into the air, and I was lost in his dark eyes, which were watching me, observing me as sharply as always. I felt so warm inside... When he lifted an eyebrow expectantly, I could only weakly splutter out, "I don't wanna be eighteen."

His dark eyes seemed to soften, and he shrugged. "Does anyone?"

"People who wanna be free from their parents, yes," I responded. Dom shrugged once again, and we stood there for a little.

Eventually, I grabbed Dom's warm, large hand and dragged him toward the punch table, which Dacey was supposed to be operating. Even when I stood on my tiptoes to look over everyone's heads (and I was so short that didn't even make that much of a difference), I caught no glint of her blond hair. How nice...she was probably with my brother.