Don't Call Me Kit Kat by K. J. Farnham

Author:K. J. Farnham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: K J Farnham Publishing LLC

“Lower?” Selena says. A seven is flipped on top of the ten. “That’s three in a row!” she exclaims, looking at me. “Your turn.”

I look down at the stack of cards. There must be at least eight in the pile by now. I can’t remember the name of the game, but I know that if I guess wrong about whether the next card is higher or lower than seven, I have to take one drink for every card in the pile.

“Well? What do you think, Kit Kat? High or low?” Darcy asks.

Nick peeks at the next card and gives me a devious grin.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” I rub my forehead, as I work extra hard to focus. My head is spinning like I have just gotten off a Tilt-a-Whirl. Seven. The next card has to be higher than seven. I take a deep breath. “Higher.”

Nick groans as he flips over a six on top of the seven. Everyone around me hoots and hollers. Tyler grabs the pile of cards and counts out loud as he slaps them one by one onto the table. By the time he gets to “Eleven,” everyone else is counting with him.

“Go for it, Kit Kat,” Selena says with a wink.

Or maybe she didn’t wink. I’m not sure of anything right now. Everything is fuzzy, like I might be dreaming.

“C’mon, girl, chug it down,” Brad says.

I take the first four gulps quickly, but then choke a little on the fifth. Beer dribbles down my chin and onto my top. Laughter envelops me.

Why am I doing this?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nick takes the cup from my hand. “I think you’re done.”

“No way, man. That wasn’t eleven sips,” Brad says.

“Shut up, Brad!” Selena says, as she pushes hair out of my face and secures it behind my ear. “She’s had enough.”

Brad rolls his eyes. “Whatever. That’s only like her fourth beer.”

“Yeah, but she only weighs like eighty pounds,” Darcy mutters.

“What did she say about me?” I mumble, as Selena and Nick help me to my feet.

“Nothing,” Selena says firmly. “Nothing important, anyway.”

As soon as I’m standing, my legs wobble like they’re made of Jell-O. An arm wraps around my waist and my right arm is hoisted around Nick’s neck.

An older girl I don’t recognize asks Selena how much I’ve had to drink as I am guided through the main room to the stairs. The loud music and dim lighting cause me to feel even more disoriented, and I hear myself saying, “I have to go home. I just need to go home. Can someone please take me home?”

When I stumble on the stairs, Nick picks me up and I hear Anthony’s voice, “What’s going on?” I peer at him over Nick’s shoulder. Then I am nearly shocked sober when I get a glimpse of Sloan Whitson grinning at me from the couch. Is that really Sloan? Please, God, please don’t let that be Sloan.

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