She’s drunk. And she blames Bradley. Because really, really, this is all his fault.
He’s the one that handed her that first drink with his goofy grin,
“Drink up, Ang.”
All his bloody fault. And now they’re all crammed into this photobooth and she can’t breathe and all his fault. She is going to kill Bradley James one of these days . Probably when she’s drunk. And it will be all his fault.
“Aaaaaangel, whatchya doin?” Bradley says, slumping against the wall next to her. She rolls her eyes and points to where Katie and Colin are stumbling out of the photobooth, Katie dragging Colin by the wrist behind her. Bradley gives her a look and Angel smiles.
Their irish darlings don’t even make it to the broom closet or wherever they think they’re heading before Colin’s got Katie against a wall and then they’re kissing.
“We shouldn’t be looking,” Bradley mutters. And Angel smiles into her cup.
There is a desk and papers crash to the floor as Katie sits on the desk, her eyes locking with his. His smile is devilish and she gulps.
They’re kissing again and all she can feel, see, and hear is Colin.
There’s a hand in her hair and one over her thigh under her dress and then she’s wrapping her legs around him.
It’s like her blood is molten and every touch of their lips only makes her feel more and more like she’s about to combust.
“Too many clothes,” he’s saying and she giggles into his shoulder blade.
The next thing she knows, she’s dragging him up onto the desk.