Finding 17

two

Gibsie – Biddies, Friday Night

I knew something was off the second I walked back toward the floor and saw Sadie dancing like she hadn't eaten a solid meal in days.

Hair stuck to her cheeks, eyes glassy, smile lopsided.

Drunk.

Not tipsy. Not "sneaky two-vodkas-and-a-cider" drunk.

Gone.

"Jesus," I muttered under my breath, elbowing past a few lads with more biceps than brain cells. Johnny was at the bar behind me, but I didn't need backup. I just needed to get to my sister.

And Garrett O'Neil's hands needed to get off her.

He had her tucked against his chest, one hand gripping her waist, the other down far enough on her thigh that I saw red.

"Alright there, princess?" he said, nuzzling into her hair like he owned her. She giggled in response, leaning into him, eyes half-closed.

I saw red again. Full-body, heart-punching, blood-boiling red.

"Oi."

Garrett looked up, slow and casual like I hadn't just caught him with his hand practically up my sister's skirt.

"What?" he said, cocky little smile curling up like we were mates.

"You need to cool it," I said, voice low. "She's locked."

Sadie turned to me, wobbly. "I'm not," she slurred, reaching for Garrett's arm. "We're just dancing."

"This isn't dancing," I snapped, catching her wrist before she tipped. "You need water. Or food. Or a nap. Or a brain transplant."

Garrett stepped forward, towering like he thought he could puff his chest and I'd back down. "She's fine, man. I've got her."

"No, I've got her," I shot back. "She's my sister. And she's fifteen, O'Neil."

He shrugged, like that didn't matter.

Sadie's head dropped onto his shoulder again, and something in me cracked. I wanted to shout. Shake her. Tell her this wasn't her. That she wasn't the kind of girl who let some too-slick fifth-year wrap her around his fingers like that.

But she looked happy.

Drunk, swaying, clinging to him like he was the answer to something I didn't know she was asking.

I bit the inside of my cheek and let it go. For now.

"Don't let her drink any more," I said, voice stiff. "Swear it."

Garrett met my eyes. Smiled like he was doing me a favor.

"Of course."

Liar.

I turned and stalked off before I did something stupid—like break his nose in front of the entire year.

——

I was halfway through a bag of crisps and pretending to listen to Hughie talk absolute shite about something that happened nearly two years ago, when Johnny nudged me hard in the ribs.

"Mate," he said under his breath. "Look."

He jerked his chin toward the far end of the club.

I followed his line of sight and saw Sadie, still tangled around Garrett O'Neil like a scarf someone forgot to take off. Her head lolled a bit as she laughed, practically hanging off his chest now. Garrett wasn't even pretending to hold her up anymore—just had his arm anchored around her waist, hand creeping suspiciously low.