In which Lucas Sinclair's older sister spends her whole summer trying to tame Billy Hargrove.
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Contains Dark themes and sexual content that may not be suitable for people under the age of 18.
Read at your own risk-this essentially is...
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Chapter Twenty-Three: Down Bad
Zara Sinclair didn't really like tequila. She got a little slutty off vodka and just the slightest bit aggressive when she took back that cinnamon whiskey Steve brought over a few years back from his dads liquor cabinet—tasted nice going down but the dark liquor made her a little mean. "Robin, I can't take another one." She shakily warned her friend, one hand cupping her exposed midriff as she breathed in and out slowly, willing her stomach to contain its contents.
She really should've eaten more earlier.
This had to have been her sixth shot—maybe seventh, probably a few more than that if you counted the generous servings Steve handed them earlier before they'd even left his house. "Don't be a wuss," Robin Buckley slurred her response, her short blonde strands a little unruly from the drive over when she insisted she roll the windows down as low as they could manage. "—I thought you were a party girl or was Harrington just exaggerating?"
The music was so loud the floors were vibrating, hoards of freshly graduated, finally legal teenagers were dancing on the makeshift dance floor; the kitchen table was moved to the backyard being used as a pool table. Zara couldn't lie—the house was stunning, lived in by Alec Matthews who was nice enough; a little too flirty but overall a decent person. "She could handle her liquor back then," Harrington quipped jokingly, his cheeks flushed from all the drinking and a dopey smile was smeared across his lips from the joint Zara had rolled for them earlier. "Guess Hargrove's tamed her more than we thought."
Zara's skin formed goosebumps at the sound of Billy's name and the challenging lilt of Steve's voice. She raised a brow, squaring her shoulders as she snatched up the plastic shot cup filled to the brim with whatever cheap brand of tequila that Robin had smuggled from Alec's kitchen. "I was trying to slow down so you could catch up, Stevie," Robin let out a raspy laugh, blue eyes watching the way Steve's brows raised as Zara took the shot back without so much as a grimace. "–never thought I'd see the day where King Steve let a girl out-drink him."
Her taunt was slick, a little slurred but the point had ultimately made its mark when Harrington let out a sharp laugh. His movements were a little sloppy, the affects of the alcohol seeping into his bones as slender fingers wrapped around the bottle of spirits—Steve nearly dropped it when he poured himself a shot in the same cup Zara had used a few seconds before him. He was quickly approaching his limit—the tolerance he'd once had no longer as strong after months of abstaining. Well, mostly. But the occasional chilled can of beer was nothing compared to this and after Zara had handed him the joint earlier he was feeling loose—daring even. "Don't even start, Sinclair." Steve rasped out, the mini solo cup gripped between two fingers. "You know I can take you any day."
Robin's brows raised slightly, gaze sliding from one friend to the other at his suggestive words and— sure she'd heard from Steve a few times before about how the duo used to get a little hot and heavy; especially at parties like these but Robin had never witnessed the flirtation first hand.
