"We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness - and call it love - true love." (Robert Fulghum)
Moving...
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"I can't believe we're relying on Lance to get us drinks," Hale says, almost sinking into his chair. Though my brain isn't processing the image in front of me, where my brother leans his head on the back of the chair, his bottom almost hanging to the floor, and his legs stretched to the opposite end of the table from where he's sitting.
"Speak for yourself," I reply.
Hale scowls at me, and Zayden laughs at our interaction. I really enjoy this banter between us, finding myself commenting on it more and more. I wonder how I lived so many years without making fun of my brother's troubles.
"I could use a cocktail," Harlyn says dreamily.
To be fair, I wouldn't say no to a cocktail, but the bartender, who is actually just one of the coordinators, only knows how to mix juice and alcohol in plastic cups. Moreover, the drink selection is not diverse at all, but that hasn't stopped Lance from trying all possible combinations. Still, he holds up well; Nevin would have been on his way to the hospital or in an alcoholic coma by now. I don't know if he generally has a high tolerance or if it's thanks to Zayden's care, who throws him a water bottle every twenty minutes, like a vigilant friend.
"Finally," Hale grumbles, carefully taking a brimming glass from Lance.
The brown-haired is a bit wobbly on his feet. Maybe I spoke too soon.
The other glass ends up in Raine's hands, who allows Harlyn a sip, but she grimaces and returns it immediately. Tony has been lurking in the shadows all evening, as he hasn't come close since he cornered me, and Hale put him in his place. So far, neither of us has given him a reason to approach us, as we haven't touched alcohol, but now I can see how he's itching to get up and pour Raine's glass directly over our heads. I notice with my peripheral vision that even Zayden has his eyes fixed on the same person, challenging him to come closer. If he ruins our fun, I don't think he or Hale would hesitate to continue talking about how Anthony recklessly violates the duties of a coordinator not to fraternize with those he supervises, adding that whatever he tried at the bar was not at all with my consent.
"I'm going to bed. Bisous!" Lance waves at us and disappears, making us all look in his direction, unsure if we actually heard French or if he's playing tricks on our ears.
Hale lets out a sound of despair, looking very disgruntled, probably upset that he's been at Lance's mercy all evening, and Lance didn't care as much about his desires, slipping him far fewer glasses than he would have had if it were up to him.
"You're very beautiful!"
All eyes turn to Owen, who seems much more intoxicated than Lance and spoke those words quite loudly over the music in the room, slamming his hands on the table at the same time. My cheeks burn, and not because I feel flattered; on the contrary, I feel excessively embarrassed. I've suddenly become the center of attention. Hale is barely holding back laughter, Raine looks skeptical, Harlyn is ecstatic, and Zayden is emitting waves of negative energy in dark pulses.
