In Between the Lines

Chapter 20: If You Can't Fix It, Then Mix It

But even if he came for me now, I wasn't sure I cared anymore.

At least, that was what I told myself as I knocked back that first glass. And then the second. And it wasn't long until I realized that my tolerance was a lot lower than it used to be. I was halfway through my third when the burning I felt with each sip reduced to a pleasant tingling. My cellphone was somehow in my hands—and I was staring at a perfect, little blue heart.

By the time I'd finished the rest of what was in my glass, there was an annoying ringing in my ear. But then . . . the most beautiful voice broke through.

"Peacock?"

I melted into the couch, smiling against my phone. "Mmm. You're calling me Peacock again."

There was a slight pause—and then that voice frosted over. "What do you want, Lyra?"

"No!" I hiccuped. "Stop calling me that!"

"What the hell? Are you drunk?"

Before I could answer, another hiccup stole my throat.

"Oops." I giggled. "S'cuze me."

Dez hissed a curse, and for some reason I imagined he was running his hand through his hair. His luxurious, dark, chestnut hair. He always did that when he was exasperated or nervous.

He was so cute when he was nervous.

The sound of something jingling—keys, possibly—crossed through the line. "Where are you?" Dez said.

Another hiccup. "I'm at home."

I giggled again.

What were the purpose of hiccups?

The jingling stopped. "You're drinking alone? At home?"

I didn't know why he sounded so concerned. It wasn't like I was out getting wasted at some party with a bunch of strangers. I was drinking at home—by myself.

I laughed as it finally struck me. "Wow. That must make me sound pathetic. Do you think I'm pathetic, Dezzyyy?"

There was no humor in his voice. "I don't think you're pathetic. I think you're confusing as fuck, Lyra. I thought you didn't drink."

"Let's just say it's a special occasion." I made a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob. I didn't know—I didn't care.

For a long moment, the line stayed silent. I glanced at my phone thinking Dez had hung up, but the call was still ongoing.

Hold on. Had I just drunk called Dez?

I put my phone back to my ear. "Hello?"

"Did something happen during that dinner?"

I sat up on the couch, losing the ability to speak. The room spun a bit, but I managed to stay on my feet as I walked—or stumbled—towards the window to get air. Even the world outside was swimming.

But the stars sure as hell looked pretty that way.

"Lyra—"

"Will you stop calling me that?" I frowned. "I don't like it."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you? You do know we have school tomorrow, don't you? Why in the world are you drinking at two in the morning by yourself on a Sunday night?"

I snapped out of my buzz. "It's two in the morning? Shit, Dez. I'm sorry if I woke you—"

"I wasn't sleeping." He sighed before he added, "I couldn't."