Drunk at First Sight

This one is for Jon Paul's Drunk at First Sight Blogfest. Due to back issues (and maybe, just maybe, Girl's Night Out last night) I scratched it out quickly this morning. I borrowed the basic outline from a Christmas party scene I wrote using the characters in my WiP. There's one line still completely intact - I bet everyone can pick it out ;-)


Luck O' the Polish

Whatever had possessed me to drink alcohol needed to exorcised. Post haste.

"You know, most people start drinking in their teens." Hunter walked up from behind and draped an arm over my shoulder. "It's like practice."

"Then most people are engaging in an illegal activity." At least, that's how I'd meant it to sound. The first two words barely formed and the last two, well, five syllables combined, at best.

Hunter laughed--at me. "I have a sudden urge to grab my guitar and whip out some Adam Ant."

"So funny. Ha." I could have sworn Hunter only had one piercing in his lip, but now I saw three. His black and white skunked hair begged a good ruffling, but it seemed to high for me to reach. "No it's not. I'm as tall as you."

He finally remembered my eyes were about two feet higher and looked into them. "What the hell are you talking about?" He laughed again and kissed the side of my head. "Jet," he called as he stalked off, "Kasia needs you, man."

I stumbled backwards, my legs bumped something, and I plopped onto my rear. Thankfully, the sofa caught me. The cozy green couch sucked me down into its giant cushions. Green sofa. Hunter green. Just like Hunter. A loud laugh escaped, along with a snort.

The party raged around me: distant noises, loud voices, and screaming music in full surround sound. A blur of motion on the floor caught my eye. Oh god. Who tied a beer bottle to the dog's tail? Wait. Where did a dog come from?

I slid forward onto my knees, head bumping the solid wood coffee table, to rescue the poor pooch, but it was gone. Nowhere to found. I whistled, made a couple kissy noises, scooted around to the other side of the table. Nothing.

Surely one couldn't hallucinate from three beers--even if they were green? Clearly I'd had enough to drink.

"Clearly you've had enough to drink."

A pair of black Converse sneakers planted themselves under my face.

"Stop that." I sat back to my knees and let my gaze meander up long jean-clad legs, stopping as my eyes reached zipper level.

"Stop what?" Jake's hand tilted my chin up; fireworks, mingled with amusement, on full display inside his golden-brown eyes.

"Saying what I said before I said it."

He cocked his head the same way Hunter had a minute ago, or possibly ten minutes, time whirled as fast as the room.

"Is there a reason you're crawling around on your hands and knees?"

"You've never complained about me being on my knees before."

That comment prompted his dazzling sexy smile and a cocky shake of his head. "I'm kinda liking you drunk."

"I'm looking for the dog."

"We don't have a dog. You must be really trashed." He bit his bottom lip and glanced around the floor.

I tried to follow his gaze, but it only made the grain in the wood floor appear to dance to the beat of the music. The latest number one single, I noticed, from my favorite band.

"There's no dog?"

The lead singer of that band planted one hand flat across his rock hard stomach as he cracked up. The other reached for my right hand.

"It's Sarah's new dog, remember?"

"Your sister's here?" Maybe she snuck in when I was out by the pool being made fun of by the rest of the band. My boys were having a blast with my state of mind. Payback would be a bi…

"You talked to her earlier." He gripped firm to my hand and yanked me upward. When he got me to my feet he dipped his face to mine.

"We aren't under mistletoe."

"It's St. Patty's Day." It came out through another laugh.

"Who cares," I said. "Pocałuj mnie."

He did kiss me, and this time the spinning sensation was due to the sweet reminder of how badly I wanted everyone to leave so we could be alone.