If I had a gun, I'd shoot a hole into the sunI am buzzing with the effects of the alcohol and the cool night air, sitting on the sand, wedged tightly against and in front of Lochlan, his arms down around me. He tilts the bottle toward my lips, just enough for a small warm sip of burning fluid to trace down through my body. When I try to have more he says That's enough, peanut. You're too little to drink much of this. He laughs and raises the bottle to his own mouth, swallowing several times. He is warm. Too warm. Lochlan-warm which is less human and more fire. We watch the antics of the others on the sand in front of us as we lounge close to the bonfire against a log. He puts his head down against mine, his lips against my ear.
And love would burn this city down for you
If I had the time, I'd stop the world and make you mine
And every day would stay the same with you
Give you back the dream, show you now what might had been
If all the tears you cry would fade away (away, away, away...)
I'll be by your side, when they come to say goodbye
We will live to fight another day
Excuse me if I spoke too soon
My eyes have always followed you around the room
'Cause you're the only god that I will ever need
I'm holding on and waiting for the moment to find me
I missed this. I love you.
I pull the bottle back and take a huge gulp before he can stop me. Before I have to answer. The pause is so loaded he's been shot before I have had time to aim.
You shouldn't. I have too much baggage. I'm watching Ben as I swallow. He is standing down by the water talking to Caleb and Sam. Tide's out. Sea monsters are everywhere.
Better Bridget with baggage than no Bridget at all. He says it quietly and I smile. No Bridget at all was tough. No Bridget at all was a difficult time period that we don't talk about anymore, much.
Ben walks up the beach and I am shoved roughly to my feet and in his general direction. I turn and pass the bottle back to Lochlan who has turned to talk to Christian and fails to acknowledge me. I kick his foot and let go of the bourbon. It falls vertically, caught easily by the juggler. He looks up at me and smiles conspiratorially. He gets away with so much. His endless, automatic charm and pragmatic attitude make for such easy prominence within the collective. His long red curls are pulled back in a simple ponytail, he's in new cargo shorts and a black tshirt. The most unassuming king of all.
He leans forward with a torch and lights it from the burning wood. Time for a show, peanut. Be a good girl and stay close, okay? I'll need help putting everything away and you're the best helper I've ever seen.