Me & Mine

43. Friendly Fire

It's Harley. They broke Harley. Except, to me, she doesn't look broken at all. She's standing in the middle of the living room, twirling around in one of my blue dresses, half a dozen guys trying to catch her attention. I smile and wriggle myself loose from Max' embrace. She doesn't look drunk, at least not as drunk as she was at the Priory party. She just seems... free.

I scowl as one of the boys wrapped his arms around her waist. I rush over to them and pull Harley closer to me. The boy pulls his arms back and stares at me blankly. "If anyone as much as looks at her the wrong way, I'll kill you," I say loudly, my voice echoing over the music. The boy raises his hands and I stare him down. Pick your battles, son.

I take Harley's face in my hands and she smiles at me. Her eyes have no trouble finding mine, her contagious jumping up and down a clear sign that she isn't too far gone yet. I smile back at her and let her embrace me.

"Fay!" She screams. 'This is the best party ever!"

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm as she jerks me along to the sofa. I'm careful not to spill my wine in the process, but the girl is adamant on falling on the couch together. I watch the red liquid spill all over my cream colored sofa and close my eyes for a moment. Well, if that isn't a perfect metaphor for my life I don't know what is. I shrug and throw the entire glass on the couch. Time for vodka.

I untangle myself from Harley's arms and rush over to Parker and his boys, who are holding half my liquor collection hostage. I take the Zubrowska from Parker's hands and he squeals like I just kicked a puppy. "You can have it back," I tease, "if you'll be a good boy and play with us."

"What are we playing?" He asks and I cock my head to the side. Harley, Max, Travis, Richie, Wells and the Priory boys were already huddled around the sofas. "Never have I ever."

Parker smirks and gestures his friends to join him. "We're in."

"So am I." His voice sends a thrill down my spine. Not for any other reason than the fact that out of all voices, I never expected to hear his.

Kane.

I look into his eyes and notice his lips curl upwards slightly. I smirk and gesture to the sofa, big red stain and broken glass and all. I follow them over and sit down on Max' lap, Harley's smiling face beside me.

"Rules are simple," I say, filling red solo cups with vodka, "if someone says 'never have I ever pooped in a McDonalds' and you've done it, you drink. If you haven't, you don't."

The red solo cups are distributed around and Max wraps his arms around my waist.

"Who wants to start?"

"I'll start us off with a round of drinks-for-all!" Travis shouts, his trademark smile plastered on his face. "Never have I ever been to a party on a Monday!"

I smile and shake my head slowly as I clink my cup against Max' and take a shot of vodka. Ah yes, sweet, strong vodka. Welcome back, lover.

Now, this game isn't won by drinking the least or drinking the most. No, this game is all about asking the right questions and burning the appropriate bridges. It's a game of social destruction and friendly fire.

Wells is next with a question and his eyes are peeled on mine. I send him a warning glare, but the sly grin on his face tells me he is up to no good. "Never have I ever," he muses, "pretended to be someone I'm not."

I scowl at him before shaking my head and downing another shot of vodka. Bastard. I clear my throat and feel Max' eyes pried on me. I shrug and smile innocently. "I might be known as Ophelia in Europe," I say coyly, making sure to flutter my eyelashes at him. He kisses my cheek and I send a deathly glare in Wells' general direction. I don't care if it's officially my turn or not, the game was on.