Enemies with Benefits

Chapter Twenty-Nine

- Nine Years Ago - Caleb -

TW: SA

"You still wanna marry me, right?"

Rachel answered me with a hiccup and a giggle, the smile on her face one I hoped was a yes before she finagled her hand from the grip I held it with. I smiled back at her, my nerves still swimming inside me despite the whiskey flowing entirely too fast through my system.

I watched her stumble back towards the house, then howled my laughter alongside Seth when she face-planted once in the sand and jumped up yelling that she'd saved it. Leah led her the rest of the way, nearly hoisting her up the stairs and through the door.

I shook my head and tipped the bottle to my lips, then passed it over to my best friend.

"You nervous for tomorrow?"

I shrugged. "Nah," was all my entirely-too-drunken self could come up with.

I loved that girl too damn much to be nervous. I was ready.

I just wished my grandmother could've made it to see this, to celebrate with us, but she wasn't doing well. I'd promised to send her pictures, but I knew she'd already seen Rachel's dress. And Rachel's parents—we'd never quite talked about the full extent they'd gone to with the pain they'd caused her. I knew they'd left her when she was a kid. And I knew that the years they had been there, the years before they dropped her off at that group home, they'd only ignored her. It was shitty, and it had me hurting for her. But she'd invited them anyway, and I knew she was still silently hoping they might actually show up though we hadn't gotten their RSVP saying so. The fuckers.

The thought had me diving too fast over the drunk and depressed cliff, so I opted to stop thinking and start drinking.

Well, drinking more.

I reached for the bottle again, downing the last few shots it held all in one good chug. I barely tasted it anymore, definitely didn't feel the burn. I frowned and held it upside down. Nothing more came out.

"Duuuuuude," I complained, "it's all goooooooone."

Seth stood and patted my leg—on the second try, because he missed my knee on the first slap of his hand. He spun around with a low laugh when his legs gave way and he landed on his ass, pushing himself up and reaching for the cooler to grab the last bottle.

He chucked it at me, and with my lack of coordination in my drunken stupor, it hit me in the face.

"Fuck, man, a warning next time!" I groaned, then broke into laughter and cracked the seal on the cap.

The moment I lifted it to my lips and swallowed, I regretted it—as much as I could in that state—knowing it was that final shot to send me rocketing over the edge into blackout-state.

Rachel's gonna kill meeeeeee, I sang in my head, then shook with a laugh, knowing how hot she looked when she was mad.

Worth it.

Arousal started to flow at the thought, especially after the start we'd gotten earlier without finishing it all.

Seth said something I wasn't listening to, and I nodded with a shit-eating grin on my face. My brain wasn't working in the right head to deal with him, so when I turned and blinked slowly, not seeing him anywhere, I shrugged it off.

I wanted to go find Rachel. It was the last night before I could call her my wife, and that thought—the thought of her being mine—it was doing things to me. I went to stand and immediately fell back into my chair.