But the truth? The truth was I didn’t buy any of that. I’d felt a connection with Dean more times than I could count. I didn’t believe a connection like that could be one-sided. So, yeah, I was angry. I was angry at him because I thought he was being too much of a coward to admit he felt something for me, too. He was hiding from his feelings, even after I’d taken the hardest step and been open with him first.

Dean and I found an open place at one of the tables and sat. There was a bottle of wine. He made no move to touch it or pour himself a drink. I, on the other hand, planned to enjoy myself as much as I could. More accurately, I planned to numb myself. Being around Dean after everything I’d put on the table was too much.

I poured a large glass of wine, tipped it to Dean, and started drinking.

The look he gave me was full of concern, which only made me want to drink more.

He was acting like I was some wounded puppy he’d kicked. But, instead of simply kicking me and leaving the room, he was lingering to try to nurse me back to health–to rebuild my trust. It pissed me off, and I planned to drink wine until it didn’t piss me off so much.

While we sat, Jonas and Lizzie came back to say “hi”. I was friendly enough, thanked them for the hospitality, and wished them good luck for tomorrow. A few other members of my family and extended family came back to talk to us, and nobody stayed for very long. Maybe it was the “fuck the world” vibe I was apparently rocking tonight.

Once I’d made my way through a significant portion of the wine bottle on my own, Curtis and Lane stopped by our table. Curtis hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, smiling wide. “Hey lovebirds.” Then he shot Dean a hard look. “You treatin’ our cousin right?”

“Trying to,” Dean said.

“Tryin’ is what you do to a buttered biscuit at a two star buffet,” Lane said. There was an edge of warning in his voice. “You better get to doin’ with our cousin.”

“You want me to do your cousin?” Dean asked.

“He ain’t meant it like that,” Curtis said, putting a hand on Lane’s chest to stop him from interjecting and probably making things more awkward. Curtis apparently wanted to handle that part all by himself. “What he meant is you two look like you had some kind of fight.” When he said “fight”, it came out more like “Faaht”. “Ya’ll need to kiss and make up. And give ‘er some tongue. You know what we say in the hills? Kissin’ without tongue is for your sister.”

Lane punched him. “Ain’t nobody says that! There you go again, penetratin’ stereotypes.”

“I really don’t think now is the best time for kissing,” Dean said.

“No?” I asked. Unfortunately, I was a lightweight, and the wine was already clouding my judgment, which hadn’t started off that great to begin with. “You won’t kiss your own girlfriend?”