When in Rome(29)

Instead, I smile softly and sip my beer. Polite, polite, polite.

A few minutes later and after we’ve all ordered another round of beers, Madison looks over my shoulder and her smile grows even wider. “Oh, look, Noah’s here with James!”

An avalanche of butterflies tumbles into my stomach and the sensation is so overwhelming I nearly fall out of my chair. Somehow, I can feel Noah’s eyes on the back of my neck. My skin is warm. The hairs on my arms rise. My fingers are fidgety. I bounce my knee, but none of this works to erase the way I can sense him approaching. I raise my beer to my lips and chug half of it. I have no choice. I’m at the mercy of my frazzled nerves now.

Unfortunately, the room that only wobbled a little bit ago now feels like a spinning teacup ride. How am I drunk already? That doesn’t seem right for finishing only one and a half beers. Tipsy, sure. But this sensation is different. Alarming.

Noah and the guy they said is named James make their way over. Noah stays on the opposite side of the table, because as usual, he’s afraid I’ll bite if he gets too close. His friend, however, introduces himself with a welcoming, open smile.

He extends his tan, calloused hand. I would be lying if I said I didn’t immediately notice how attractive he and his dark brown hair and pearly white teeth are. “Hi, I’m James. And I’ll save both of us any awkwardness by admitting right away that I know exactly who you are.” He tacks on a good-natured smile that puts me at ease. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Rae.” Well, I would be at ease if I didn’t feel so damn drunk.

I glance suspiciously at the remaining beer in my glass as nausea and exhaustion jump on top of me. I need to prop my eyelids up just to keep them open.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Rae,” I say, feeling like my words are thick molasses coming out of my mouth.

James’s face crinkles with a quizzical smile. Oh, wait. Did I accidentally call him by my name? I gently shake my head and laugh. “Sorry. I mean James. Nice to meet you, James.” I hold up my beer feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds. “Too much of this, I guess.”

Annie frowns. “You only had one and a half beers and were fine a second ago.”

Right.

It’s weird I’m acting this way.

I look up and lock eyes with Noah. He looks stormier than a hurricane. His thick golden brows are heavily pulled together and his jaw is set. He’s not happy. Well, is he ever happy when I’m around? His gaze feels so intense I have to look away, but from the corner of my eye, I can see that he’s still watching me closely. Chill bumps fly down my arms and I need for him to stop staring at me like that before he burns a hole through my face.

Also, whew buddy, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck all of a sudden and I need sleep more than anything. I’d like to lay my head down right on this table and—

Oh shit.

That’s when I realize what I’ve done.

“Oh! This is my favorite song!” yells Madison. She sounds so far away even though she’s right in front of me at the table. “Come on, let’s go dance!”

The sisters pop up and head toward the dance floor with James, but Emily hangs back. “You okay, Rae?”

I try to give her a normal smile. I’m not even sure my lips move. “Sh’yeah! Be there in a second!”

She chuckles, but I still hear the worry in her tone. Mother hen is on to me. “Okay. Noah, keep an eye on her, will you? I think she’s a lightweight.”

Now I’m alone at the table and I feel an equal amount of relief in knowing someone hasn’t slipped something in my drink, and dread for what I’ve done. The world is swirling around me, nausea churning in my stomach, and the desire to close my eyes is so overwhelming I can hardly fight it. But even worse, I’m completely vulnerable right now.

Trying to keep my eyes from crossing, I swivel toward my purse hanging on the back of the chair. I dip my hand inside and pull out my prescription migraine medication. It takes some serious effort to get my eyes to focus, but I’m finally able to determine that it’s not the same circle-shaped pill I took earlier. Which means…oh, no, no, no.

I take out the other prescription bottle in my bag. It’s a heavy-duty, knock-you-out-until-next-summer kind of sleeping pill that I only use when I’m traveling on tour and have serious jet lag in other countries. And yep, it’s the pill I took earlier. I don’t normally keep them in my purse, but I forgot that before I left town, I swiped everything from my bathroom counter into the bag I’m carrying now. I only take this medication when it’s a dire situation and I absolutely can’t sleep, because it knocks me out with the same power as a horse tranquilizer. Oh, and one more alarming realization, it’s a major no-no to mix sleeping pills with alcohol.

“Did you take one of those?” Noah’s voice rumbles right above me. I forgot he was here. Even my name is difficult to remember. Now he’s squatting down beside me and gently taking the pill container from my hand. His fingers brush against mine and I shiver. He’s so warm. And even his hand looks strong. Making pies really does it for this man.

I swallow. “Yeah. Acccccidentally.” My words slur together as if I’ve had five drinks already. I feel absolutely intoxicated. And scared. And alone. “I thhhought I was taking my other mmmedication. Guess not.”

“How many did you take?” His voice feels like a microfiber blanket draped over my body.