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As if I needed introductions. As if I didn’t know.

Ryder was the guitarist, Rocco, the bassist, and Zeke, rhythm guitar and backup vocals. Zeke was also the baby of the group and the only one from outside of Massachusetts. He was a southern boy, with down-home charm and manners in a rocker package.

Unsurprisingly, he was also first to hop out of his chair and offer it to me.

Jet steered me over, once again not really giving me a choice. And, once again, I didn’t really care. Especially when Jake moved to stand close behind me.

When Kase gave me my drink, I took a tiny sip with the plan of making it last.

Reading my mind again, Jake leaned close to my ear. “I’m driving tonight and nursing this beer. Drink up, let loose, yeah?”

I nodded up at him before Gage grabbed my attention.

“So, why no cookies? You brought cookies for Rhys.”

“He placed an order for them. Let me know what you want, I’ll totally bake some.”

“No chocolate chip. I’m thinking oatmeal raisin.”

“Dude, no. Fuck no. That’s not a cookie, that’s breakfast. And a nasty one,” Rocco said, his expression making his disgust clear.

“I like them. And the fact that none of you fuckers do means I might actually get some of them.”

“I dunno,” Kase put in as he set a fresh drink in front of me, making me realize I’d finished the first one. “I’m willing to bet she can make even raisins taste good.”

“It’s true,” I confirmed. “I hate raisins, but even I like my oatmeal raisin cookies.”

I forgot about my plan to drink slowly when everyone began debating the best dessert, a surprisingly heated topic. From there the conversation, and the drinks, flowed.

It wasn’t long before the nervous tension left my body. Although I was sure the alcohol helped, the band acted like a group of regular guys and that’s how most everyone treated them.

I finished my drink and a new one appeared like magic in front of me. Unfortunately, the others I’d had were making themselves known.

When I stood up, Jake’s hand went to my waist.

“You good?” he rumbled close to my ear.

“Yeah,” I breathed. His hand often had that effect on me, but standing also made me realize Ireallyhad to pee.

Jake slid his hand down my side before letting me go and stepping back.

“Hey Piper, that your only piercing?” Rocco asked, dipping his head to my bellybutton ring. All the guys were tattooed, but Rocco was pierced multiple times.

“Uh, no, I have a few more.” Turning towards the doorway, I stopped when he spoke again.

“Where?”

Looking over my shoulder, I smiled. “Telling would take the fun out of it.”

I weaved in and out of couples going at it and pointedly ignored some less than friendly glares I was getting. Not that there were a lot of them here, but still my “Maximum Skank Occupancy Limit” had been exceeded. They were the only ones treating the band differently, and they didn’t look too happy about how that was playing out.

When I reached the surprisingly tidy bathroom, I silently thanked the party gods that there was no line. After I was done, I walked carefully, concentrating on my steps so I didn’t fall.

Why does walking always mean feeling drunker?

Or is it more drunk?

More drunkerer?