Beyond Compare (h.e.s)

part twelve

Hey," Summer greets me when I walk up to her table near the back of the bar. As I'm hugging her, she says, "Sorry."

"For what?" I ask, but the answer is clear from the outrageous noise—I refuse to call it singing—and Summer's grimace. I look behind me and sure enough, I know the girl standing on stage, screeching that "turn around" song into the microphone. She's hot—well, pretty, but she's got a great rack, which makes her hot—and she's absolutely blitzed out of her mind.

Later on, after we've—she's—been kicked out of the bar, we slowly walk home because Izzy keeps stumbling everywhere and tripping Summee, who has put her arm around her shoulders. At one point, Izzy reaches over and taps me on the shoulder.

"Yes, Iz?" I ask, amused. Let no one say this girl isn't entertaining.

"You're very handsome," she tells me. She raises her eyebrows and nods seriously, saying, "No, really you are," as if I argued with her, even though I haven't said a word.

I smile, and we hold each other's gazes for a second. There's something there, that little spark in her eyes that gets me a little heated, and I can't help but wonder what her lips would look like after I kissed her. What they would look like doing other things, too.

I think she's attracted to me, too—I mean, she did just call me handsome. I've only met her once before, and she was sober and not nearly as brazen, though still quite fun. And Summer would probably kill me, but I could take it. My eyes rove over Izzy's nice ass and those fantastic breasts, and yeah, I think it'd be worth a scolding from Summer.

I'm about to flirt back when she says, "Summ, you are, too. Not handsome. Pretty. Not pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Even your nostrils are pretty."

Summer and I share a look and chuckle over her head. Isabelle is so, so drunk.

"Thanks, Iz," Summer says.

Izzy proceeds to tell Summer how much men suck—to which Summer mouths 'break up' to me, which explains the drunkenness. And then, to my utter astonishment and delight, she asks Summer if she'll "go les" with her if neither of them finds a man by 2020.

"Why 2020?" Summer asks.

She shrugs. "2020, it's so even. You add the 2 and another 2 and then there's the zeroes!" she says, like that explains everything and then proceeds to trip, nearly falling to the ground before I grab her.

"Alright," I say, torn between laughing and sighing. We've walked two blocks in the last ten minutes, and I need to piss. This has got to speed up. "Izzy, can you get on my back? I'll piggy-back you home."

She grins and nods enthusiastically—despite her drunkenness, or maybe because of it, it's cute as fuck— and I move to stand in front of her, crouching down so she doesn't have to jump as high. It takes three tries, but she finally jumps high enough. I latch my hands onto her thighs, then give a little jump-boost so she's sitting higher on my back, which makes her squeal.

We walk home at a normal pace, then a little faster when she wraps her legs around my waist—which would be kind of sexy, especially when she whispers, "You really are handsome"— except that it's totally pushing on my bladder.