Charlie's Angel

pizza date [short]

Charlie

"Bet you can't," he taunted while chuckling at the look sprawled across my face.

"Bet you I can," I sassed, trying to convince the both of us that I could in fact do what he had dared me to do.

"Then prove it, baby." His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth as he watched in interest as I battled with myself to just get it over with. "Without puking."

I looked at the three shots of alcohol in front of me and bit my lip nervously. "Please. I've never puked from alcohol."

I waved him off.

He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at me, "Go on. I already did mine and look, I'm fine." Well, he had a point. Besides the pink blush on his cheeks, the alcohol hadn't affected him at all. Then again it was only three shots of Patron, so I didn't expect it to do much—especially not to him.

I, however, was an extreme lightweight. I could hear him laughing at my tipsy demeanor already.

"Without stopping?" I asked quietly although I already knew the answer. Three shots, one right after the other. He stared at me and nodded. "Right."

Sucking in a breath, I wrapped my fingers around the cold shot glass and inspected it skeptically. The bitter, sharp smell wafted to my nose and I scrunched up my face. Don't get me wrong, I loved Patron—it was my choice alcohol—that and vodka—but I didn't like the aftermath of alcohol. And plus, the kids were sleeping right down the hall.

I heard Chris sigh, "You big baby, you gonna do it or not?"

I nodded and sucked in another breath. Squeezing my eyes shut, I opened my mouth and tossed it back quickly. I almost gagged right then and there, and Chris held back his laugh, but I had to keep going. Swallowing it quickly and feeling the burn in the back of my throat that traveled down to my chest, I grabbed the second one and did the same.

As I set the final shot glass down and swallowed what was in my mouth, I burst out laughing. Chris added in with his cute, little goat laugh, but he wasn't laughing at what I was laughing at. He was laughing at me laughing, but I was laughing at myself for being so silly about this. I was afraid for nothing, this was easy as pie.

I looked up at him and smiled, "Told you I could do it." I poked his chest to get my point across. "You're gonna learn to not underestimate me, Christopher."

He laughed, "Never that, baby. I just wanted to see if you would listen to me."

***

"Baby," Chris groaned through his laughs. He playfully swatted my hand away as I played with his lips. We took our spots on the couch and half-heartedly watched Love & Basketball but the alcohol in my system wouldn't let me settle down—I may or may not have had a few more shots. But now I was playing with his lips like I was making him talk.

I alcohol made me feel warm and slightly happy, but I wasn't drunk. I was tipsy—there's a huge difference. Deja vu...

I started mocking him while moving his lips, "'Hey, I'm Chris Brown and I have freckles and big, pink lips. I love my nephew and I love to paint and I'm a big doo-doo head. But I loveeeee Charlie, she's my best friend in the wholeeeee world."

He burst out laughing and swatted my hand away again, "You're a fucking weirdo when you're drunk, baby." He pulled me by my waist closer to him so I was sitting all the way in his lap instead of just resting my calves on his thighs.

I huffed, pinched his nose. "I'm not drunk, boo. I'm just really, really happy." I smiled at him and he placed his palms on my hips. "And besides, I'm your weirdo."