Poser by Cambria Hebert Page A

this. Where did you even get it?”
    Okay, so did me bringing this totally amusing girl drink take away any bonus points I had racked up? Or was she secretly pleased I had the shit?
    “I told ya. I got it from one of the guys on the team. I told him I needed something other than beer that my girl would like.” I glanced down at the bottle. “It’s pink. You like pink. I thought it was like that blush-colored wine women drink.”
    Ivy laughed again. She pointed to the label. “It’s watermelon flavored.”
    I squinted at the label. It said watermelon. I scoffed. “It can’t be that bad. Hand it over.”
    She did, and I unscrewed the cap (yet another clue that perhaps this was some cheap-ass shit) and poured it in the two plastic cups Ivy held out.
    I took one of the cups and sniffed the contents. It smelled like some bad air freshener you could buy at Wal-Mart that promised to make your car smell great, when what it actually did was make you nauseous. “Fruity.”
    Ivy grinned and took a sip. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Try it.”
    Oh, what the hell? I’d already forgone my manhood to drink Smurf Balls; this pink shit couldn’t possibly be any worse.
    I took a drink, letting the flavor spill across my tongue. I pulled it back and looked down.
    Was this supposed to be alcohol or soda?
    I guess I could see why they named it watermelon… Okay, no I couldn’t. It didn’t taste like watermelon at all.
    It tasted like a giant Jolly Rancher.
    “Well?” Ivy asked.
    “Too much of this shit might give us diabetes,” I quipped. “I mean, seriously. Did you want some wine with your sugar?”
    “Aww, but it’s pink wine!”
    I made a rude sound. “The shit I do for you, woman.”
    Ivy drank some more of it. I made a face, but oddly, I was thinking about taking another sip too.
    “I kinda like it,” she confided.
    “Drink up.” I held out my hand like it was a formal invite.
    “You just want me to get drunk so you can take advantage of me,” she teased.
    My body jerked. “That’s not fucking funny.” My voice was hard and loud.
    Ivy sucked in a breath and straightened. All traces of fun were wiped from her features. “I was just kidding. There’s like three percent alcohol in this. I wouldn’t even be drunk if I had the entire bottle.”
    I swore under my breath and rubbed a hand over my hair. “I’m sorry. I guess just the suggestion I would ever do something like that to you makes me sick.”
    She tucked the cup in her lap and reached out with both hands, laying them on my knees. “I know you wouldn’t, B. I feel safer with you than anyone I’ve ever met. Even Drew.”
    I blew out a breath and drank some of the Kool-Aid masquerading as wine.
    “You mean that?” I asked. For some reason, that statement meant a lot to me. Almost as much as when she told me she loved me for the first time.
    It was like it somehow validated everything I’d done.
    “I swear on every single star in the sky,” she spoke, echoing my own words back to me. “I know you would never hurt me, Braeden James Walker. I am safe with you.”
    “Bring those fine-ass lips over here, woman.” I opened up one arm. She leaned over, and I tugged her into my lap. She laughed, but I caught the sound with my lips and used my tongue to claim the rest.
    She tasted sweet and her tongue was cool. I sucked it farther into my mouth, deepening our kiss. The cup in my hand made it hard to touch her the way I wanted, so I tossed it over the side of the truck. It landed with a barely audibly thud on the grass below.
    My hands delved deep into the soft strands of her long hair and got lost, kneading in farther until the tips of my fingers caressed her scalp.
    She made a purring sound that vibrated both our tongues, and I groaned.
    She pulled back, and my eyes narrowed. I wasn’t done kissing the shit out of her yet. I followed, trying to pull her back, but she shook her head.
    “We came here to talk.”
    “We talked.” My voice was