Page 6 of Just the tip

I looked down at my half empty beer, stuck my tongue out at the taste, and tossed it off in the grass before wandering in the direction of the keg. There had to be an empty cup somewhere, and at least the keg beer would be cold.

It took me fifteen minutes to find a clean, intact cup jammed behind a few empty coolers. Fortunately, the keg was still holding, and there was another on deck behind it. I dodged keg stands, swaying girls, and the bump-and-grinders and, with the tap in my hand, happened to glance over and spy another open cooler with slushy-looking pink liquid. It looked infinitely colder and more refreshing and also probably highly flammable. Count me in. I scooped myself a drink just as another girl bumped into me with the same idea. She laughed an apology and thanked me profusely when I held her steady as she refilled her cup.

“I’m only supposed to have one, but…it’ssogood!” She giggled and wandered off. I considered following her for a second. She was cute, after all. But meh.

Ophelia was a few yards away talking to some guy I recognized vaguely from school. A sophomore maybe? Junior? She winked when I caught her eye, which I took to mean she’d found her fish for the night. And me? I sighed and looked around. To my left, a group of girls danced in one of those tight-knit circles that suggested the rest of us were only meant to look and definitely shouldn’t interrupt. There was a prospect to my right I recognized as a freshman who’d played Hamlet in the last school play, but as we locked gazes and the side of his mouth curved up, my interest waned, though it annoyed me that I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Meanwhile, I had punch, which was as cold and refreshing as promised. And was also strong enough that my tastebuds had gone numb. Chuckling to myself, I took a long guzzle and started toward the helter-skelter of parked cars beyond the bonfire, where competing strains of rap and country wafted from various car stereos.

I tripped over a clump of grass and caught myself on the hood of someone’s car, only to hear an angry pounding. I whipped around to find a guy banging on his windshield. I stumbled away from his hood, hands up.

I wove through a labyrinth of SUVs and past a couple making out against a passenger side door.

Spotting our car several yards away—which I guessed Ryan had taken since I’d ridden with Ophelia—I thought maybe some air conditioning would hit the spot. Hell, a nap in the backseat didn’t sound too shabby either. The punch had gone to my head faster than expected, and when I looked up, the stars above were a dizzying funnel of brightness.

I fished for the car keys in my pocket as I headed in that direction, stumbling against the side of another car in the process. Fortunately, this one was empty. My head spun again, and I laughed at my clumsiness, resting back against the car door as I told the air, “Maybe I’ll just stay here a second, catch my breath. You don’t mind, do you?”

I took a breather to stare up at the sky, gulping air until the stars stopped spinning, and looking away only when movement in my peripheral vision caught my eye.

A pair of shadows moved through the darkness and stopped in front of the car I shared with Ryan. Even in the low light, I recognized his broad shoulders, the wild swoop of his hair that meant he’d raked his hand through it more than a couple of times.

A dull pang of jealousy flashed through my stomach when it dawned that he was with someone else. But of course he was. Graduation night? Why wouldn’t he be? Girls had been clamoring for his attention all night. Hell, allyear.A sour taste filled the back of my throat, and I swallowed against it as the sound of Ryan’s rumbly laughter drifted toward me.

Damn, I shouldn’t have been such a dick to him. Now the school year was over, and we were left with a little over a couple of months to…towhat? I shook my head at myself. To be…brotherly? But I’d never wanted to be brotherly with him. No. And what I truly wanted? It was never gonna happen. Ever. So I was back at square one.

Soft, feminine laughter sounded on the heels of Ryan’s, and then a breathy sigh accompanied the gravelly baritone of his voice. Fuck, how much of a perv would I be to stand here and watch them to see what they did? Would the girl pull up his shirt, kiss down his chest the way I wanted to? Lower to her knees and press her face to the front of his shorts, see how he responded?

I sucked in a breath, desperate to clear my head, and rubbed the heels of my hands against my eyes before shoving off the car. There was only one time-tested solution to raging longing for what you couldn’t have, and it wasn’t watching Ryan get blown by someone else.

4

Ryan

“This is maybe the drunkest I’ve ever seen him.” Ophelia cocked her head at Graham like the angle would help her gauge his level of inebriation better.

I folded my arms over my chest and stared at Graham, who was currently slumped against a car near the bonfire, apparently having a conversation with the air in front of him. Or maybe himself. It was hard to say.

“Actually.” Ophelia pursed her lips thoughtfully, then nodded resolutely. “Yeah, I’ve seen him drunker. Cast party forThe Tempest. So drunk he’d have probably made out with the air instead of just talking to it, that time.” She snickered to herself and then cast another glance over at Graham, who was now gesturing to make his point. Still to the air. “Okay, hedefinitelyneeds to go home.”

“Agreed.” I took a judicious swig of my beer, then set it aside. I’d spent many a night passed out in the back of a car in fields like this, but I was over it; I’d be driving home and sleeping in my own bed tonight.

“So can you take him?”

It took me a second to realize it was me Ophelia was batting her lashes at. “What? No! He came with you—you take him home. You’re his ride.”

Ophelia huffed out a breath. “Yeah, but, I’ve kinda got a…” She ticked her chin in the direction of the bonfire where two guys huddled together and fiddled with a funnel. “Athingwaiting on me. Maybe two!”

I pressed my lips together. “Yeah, well, me too.” Technically, that was debatable. A searching glance over the crowd didn’t turn up Charlotte, and I wasn’t necessarily disappointed. But I didn’t want to be saddled with drunk Graham. I could only imagine the new heights his insults would reach if we were crammed in the car together.

“Oh? Graham said you already hit that. It was all he could talk about—” Ophelia snapped her teeth. “Never mind.”

“I, uhmmm. Well, no. We were missing some importantitems.”One of which was my boner. I’d started going soft when Charlotte had squeezed my dick through my shorts like she was trying to turn it into a diamond. My balls still fucking ached. And while that typically might not have been enough to make me give up, because there was more than one good way to skin a cat—or jerk a dick—I’d happened to glance over my shoulder to spy Graham stumbling toward the bonfire, and for whatever reason, my interest had waned entirely. “Graham was talking about me?” I squinted, having almost glossed over that part. “Why?”

“You two. Jesus.” Ophelia snorted. “Because he—no.” She lifted a finger. “Ophelia, close your mouth. You might be drunker then you think.” She blinked up at me after she finished admonishing herself. “See, I’m in no condition to drive anyway.” She grinned, lifting one shoulder in a helpless shrug.

“Some friend you are,” I muttered.

“Please. I’m a better friend to him than you are a brother. Stepbrother. Whatever.” She sniffed.

It shouldn’t have hurt, and yet it did because she was right. I’d been a just as much of a dick to Graham as he was to me for a solid month and a half. It was probably time to make peace, and…shit, was he trying to hug the fuckingbonfire?