Never Ever

30| Blame it on the alcohol

My heart flips. Something about Noah's protective side unlocks excitement in me, and right now, I'm too drunk to pretend otherwise. "I can safely say this was entirely my doing, although I probably should have stopped at one glass."

I put down the champagne glass, and even though Noah's gaze flits toward it, he doesn't comment. That's one of the things I like about him, I realize. He doesn't judge me or question my choices; he lets me decide for myself. 

Straightening up, I grab his arm to steady myself, but it only sends me more off balance. In one swift move, his hands dart down to my waist and stay there, holding me firmly against him. "This is usually about the time you push me away in case someone sees us," he says.

"I know," I say, smiling back. "I'm blaming my lack of good choices on the alcohol."

"Good idea." He leans closer, allowing his breath to tickle my throat, which sends my heart pounding into overdrive. "I'm sorry about the whole party thing. This wasn't my doing."

"I figured," I say, but secretly, I'm kind of glad about tonight's sudden change of events. "What happened?"

He shrugs as if he's still pissed off, and a pissed-off Noah is hard to get information from. "Jesse happened."

I don't push for more, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to know what was happening between them. It seems like they've been arguing for weeks, and what I don't – can't – understand is what Noah and Addy see in Jesse in the first place.

Around us, laughter and conversation fill the air, blending with the music's bass. Head tilted, I lean into Noah under the guise of trying to hear him, but really, I want to be closer. "Do you want to know a secret?"

His eyebrow hitches, and I swear I feel his breath stop. "Always." 

I take a steady moment to look at him, tracing his perfect features with my gaze. "Even though I'm at a pool party of all places, I don't feel guilty about it, or like I'm being reckless. I'm actually having fun." Or at least, that's what I'd been trying to say, but actually comes out sounding like akshually, and I end up sounding like an idiot. 

To his credit, Noah withholds on making fun of me and grins at me instead. "I noticed." His voice shifts to a soft murmur. "Did I mention how proud of you I am?"

"For drinking?" I ask.

He laughs, and it's the kind of warm, low sound that resonates long after it stops. "No, Blue, not for drinking. For making the team."

As sad as it sounds, it's been a long time since I've heard those words, and hearing them again feels good. Really good. Especially coming from Noah. "Well, I suppose you played a tiny part in my success, what with you lending me your pool and all." I tilt my head and, remembering what he'd said that first night, give him what I hope is a seductive look. "I guess that means I owe you, Captain."

Something husky crosses his expression. His grip hardens, and the moment he closes the space between us, that's it; I'm hooked. "I like the sound of that." 

I lean into him, letting him gather my hair in his hands before threading it through his fingers. He's being gentle with me, his fingers like silk as they glide through my hair before falling to my lower back. Feeling like the old Ever, I lift my hands and wrap them around his shoulders, skimming my nails along his neck. 

He tenses beneath me, his next breath shuttered against my ear, and just as quickly as I remember we're not alone, I decide I don't care. Sober me would probably be running for the hills, but at least with the alcohol, I have an excuse. Nothing I do with Noah tonight can be held against me.

In theory.

Pushing against him, I start to roll my hips to the music, but clearly, two glasses of champagne are more than I can handle, because I end up tripping over his foot. Without missing a beat, Noah's arm swiftly darts beneath my leg, providing an anchor that catches me.

"Alright," he says when I'm back in his arms, "I think we need to get you some water, and maybe a bed."

Dragging a hand through my hair, I debate whether it's such a good idea to be alone with Noah in this state, and I don't mean drunk. I mean happy. Happy Ever makes decisions regarding Noah that anxious Ever might end up regretting.

When he senses my hesitation, he frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just that going to your apartment when I'm happy is a bad choice," I explain, but it's clear from his half-confused, half-amused expression that he doesn't understand.

"I'm going to try and decipher that later," he says, "but right now, if we don't get some water down you, you're going to wake up with a killer hangover in the morning."

"Okay, okay, you've convinced me," I say. "Just let me enjoy this for one more minute."

The corner of his mouth lifts. I'm saying all sorts of things I'll probably regret, and Noah couldn't be happier about it. "Fine, but I'm not letting go of you. For safety purposes, obviously."

"Of course," I say, meeting his gaze. "Safety comes first." 

He grins as my fingers grip the back of his neck, gently urging him to lower his head. He complies willingly, holding me close while his lips trace a path along my neck. 

A shiver coarses through me as I lean into him, offering him better access to my neck, and just when I'm thinking this night is too perfect, I catch a glimpse of the pool behind Noah, of the figure face down in the water. 

Dead. 

A/N

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