Ten

Cassandra

"Drew! Finally you-" Crayvin's mouth forms an 'o' shape the second his blue eyes land on me. "Oh, I didn't know you were bringing her here. Hiii Cassandra!" He slurs. Upon closer inspection, his blue eyes are bloodshot and glossy.

I roll my eyes and take a seat next to Tarra at the bar. "He's drunk," Tarra mutters, snickering.

My eyes wander over to Crayvin, standing with his elbow resting on the bar for support while he talks to Drew. I watch as he lifts the bottle of beer to his mouth, completely missing his lips. I stifle a laugh, but a snort escapes.

"What was that?" Crayvin inquires, his ocean-like eyes playful. I furrow my brows at his question. "Did I just see an actual smile on your face? And a snort? Which was kind of adorable by the way."

"Alright, enough," Drew says, breaking up the drunk compliments from his friend.

I turn to face Tarra once more and giggle. "Yup, he's definitely drunk."

"Let's play pool, shall we? You two girls... Tarra? Tarra, is that you?" Crayvin asks, slurring his words yet again.

"Sure is. Hi, Crayvin," Tarra mutters.

"The last time I saw you, you were dumping cafeteria chocolate milk on my head."

I stifle another laugh, as does Tarra. "Yeah, well you deserved it," I point out quietly, so only Tarra ears, earning a large grin.

Crayvin shrugs his shoulders and grabs his beer off the bar, not that he needs anymore. "I had it coming though. Anyway, pool? Let's make it interesting, a bet. If Drew and I win-"

"I wouldn't bet against, Cass-," Drew tries to add before Crayvin silences his warning.

"If Drew and I win, you have to buy the next few rounds."

"And when we win?" I ask.

"If you win... I'll let you drive the unit on Monday and do any arrests we get that day." I raise my brows in surprise at his offer. All week long, he hasn't let me do much of anything besides sit in the bucket seat and pick at my fingernails.

I look at Tarra and she grins, nodding her head. I reach my hand out, meeting Crayvin's, our hands strangely fitting perfectly together, and we shake on it. "Deal."

What felt like a few hours, really has only been twenty-five minutes of us going back and forth with the pool sticks. I may have misjudged Crayvin's in-capabilities and drunkenness because he isn't half bad.

But, I'm better.

I sink in the black eight ball, winning the game. Tarra hops off of the stool in excitement, fist-pumping like the dork she is. "That's my girl! My Sisssyy!" She squeals. "Suck it, Crayvin," she taunts, sticking her tongue out. Her silliness goes to an all-new high when she's slightly impaired... or should I say, intoxicated.

Crayvin groans and rolls his head back, holding the cue stuck between his legs as he stoops on the stool. "Guess that means you'll be handing over those keys to the unit then, right?" I say, rubbing my win in. I giggle as he purses his lips in annoyance.

"You're annoying," he states.

"And you sir, are the human version of period cramps."

Crayvin's face twists with anger as Drew and Tarra laugh hysterically. Tarra leans over, holding her stomach from laughing so hard and some tears escaping her perfect almond eyes.

"Alright, well I guess we should get home, huh?" Drew suggests in a low voice, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him. I look up and gulp, his handsome features and sudden affection stealing my breath. I nod and then look back to Crayvin and Tarra.

"We're going to have to drive him home with all of us. He's pretty wasted," I point out the obvious, much to my dismay.

Drew exhales and lowers his head a tad bit. "Do you mind following me to his house? I didn't drink, so I can drive his motorcycle if you can just drive my car."

Shit, I really, truly, do not want to drive Crayvin. But, at this point, what choice do I have?

I follow Drew to Crayvin's, while Tarra is passed out in the front passenger seat, and Crayvin in the back, sitting quietly. I hate to admit it, but the all-black, two-seater Triumph motorcycle he has is pretty sweet. But I wouldn't dare admit that to him.

"Gosh, you drive like my fucking grandmother. What if I said I needed to puke, would you step on it?" Crayvin complains.

I roll my eyes, exhaling at his ignorance. "You know, being a dick doesn't make yours any bigger, Crayvin."

Crayvin leans forward, his hands gripping both of the front seats. "Okay, what did I ever do to you, Porsse? Seriously, you've been a bitch to me since the second I met you."

I turn on the turning signal and follow Drew down a street full of modern homes on either side. I wouldn't peg for Crayvin to live in these types of homes. I would've guessed he lived in a cave or swamp or something.

You know? Like most monsters do.

"Crayvin, even if I told you why I don't particularly like you, right now you're a bit inebriated and I don't think your brain would comprehend it."

I hear Crayvin huff out his disappointment as I watch him from the rear-view mirror, lean back against the seat, and fold his arms over his chest, staring out into the dark night. A minute later, Drew pulls into a driveway and I follow suit. Drew gets off of the motorcycle and makes his way to the car when I feel a sudden coldness to my arm. I look down and see Crayvin's hand rests there.

"Tell me. Please, Cass," he begs with pleading eyes. He frowns, and for some odd reason, it almost makes me sad to see him like this.

He's drunk, so if I tell him, would he even remember?

Ah, what the hell. Here goes nothing.

"Miss Piggy," I whisper and his eyes, the darkest I've seen them yet, widen with a look of horror.

"What'd you say?"

I exhale and repeat my confession once more.

"Miss Piggy. That's what you used to refer to me as."