Luckily I didn’t attempt that, because the stairs proved to be a tricky beast. I think the depth between each step kept changing on me. Back in my too toasty apartment, Cam shut the door behind us. He still held my hand tightly in his as he turned to me. He didn’t say anything, and a nervous anticipation swelled inside me.

“You’re missing the fight,” I said again.

“So I am.” He tugged me around the couch and then down, so I was sitting beside him. Only then did he let go of my hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” I smoothed my damp palms along my jeans. “Your friends are probably wondering where you are.”

Cam leaned back against the cushion, throwing his arm along the back of the couch. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

I sat forward and looked over my shoulder at him. He appeared to be waiting for something. Unable to sit, I jumped up and nearly face-planted the coffee table. Would have if Cam hadn’t caught my arm.

“Maybe you should sit down, Avery.”

“I’m okay.” Wiggling free, I moved around the table carefully, just in case it decided to move on me. The nervous energy buzzed along with the alcohol. I tugged my sweater off my skin, feeling hot. “So… what did you want to do? I can, um, turn on the TV or put a movie in, but I don’t have any movies. I guess I can order one from—”

“Avery, just sit down for a little while.”

Instead of doing that, I picked up a fallen pillow and placed it on the couch. Straightening was a little difficult, but I flitted over to the moon chair. “You don’t think it’s hot in here?”

Amusement filled his blue eyes. “How much did you drink?”

“Um…” I had to really think about that. “Not much—maybe like two or three shots of tequila aaand two beers? I think.”

“Oh wow.” Cam leaned forward, his lips tipping into a grin. “When’s the last time you’ve really drank?”

“Halloween night,” I blurted.

He looked confused. “I didn’t see you drink Halloween night.”

“Not this past Halloween night.” I stood, tugging on my sleeves and my fingers brushed the bracelet. “It was… five years ago.”

“Whoa. That’s a long time.” He scooted forward and then stood. “You got water in here? Bottled?”

“In the kitchen,” I said, wetting my lips.

He disappeared and reappeared pretty quickly, handing a bottle over. “You should drink this.”

I took it, but wasn’t thirsty.

“So that made you, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?” He sat back down on the edge of the couch.

“Fourteen,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to where his hands hung between his knees.

“That’s really young to be drinking.”