Big Bad Wolfie novel Chapter 7

"Jason," I called to grab his attention, "Done with your private discussion?"

"It's alpha to you," he glared at me.

"Please, you're lucky I don't call you Wolfie to your face," I rolled my eyes. I turned to the bar tender. "Can I have a drink please? Something strong," I waved my hand.

"Excuse me?" He snapped at my 'Wolfie' comment.

"You're excused," I nodded with a grin.

Our company chuckled.

"Why do you have to be so childish?" He grumbled.

My drink came. "Um, maybe because I am one," I took a sip of it, rolling my eyes.

I made sure dog boy didn't get enough time to respond. "Wow, this is really good," I chuckled. It's like a strawberry lime mix sort of thing. You wouldn't even tell it was alcohol if it didn't leave that burning down your throat.

"Wait, what?" He frowned, snatching my drink.

I scoffed and reached for it, but he put his arm up, blocking me.

  "Hey, it's mine. You —"

"How old are you?" He raised an eyebrow.

I froze. A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. "Pft, age is but a number." I reached for my cocktail sort of thing again, but he held it farther away.

"You're right, so just tell me yours," he argued, with a smart @ss smirk on his dumb face.

Oh, congratulations. I mentally rolled my eyes. You know how to recycle other people's words.

"Um. . . I'm senmhmn," I mumbled.

"You're what?"

"Sevnmhm."

"What?!"

"SEVENTEEN! I'm seventeen, okay?!"

Silence.

"HAHAHAHA!" He laughed obnoxiously loud, still holding my drink above his head.

  You're laugh is beautiful.

  I hate you.

I crossed my arms and frowned.

  "You're just a baby!" He laughed.

  "Am not!"

  "You're not even old enough to drink in most places!"

  "Neither are you!" Probably.

  We wouldn't be mates if there was that much of an age gap.

  He chuckled. "You're not getting this back. Your little baby brain is still developing and shouldn't have alcohol."

No more stress relieving happy juice?

  Oh h3ll no.

  "Yeah, well this girl," I pointed to myself, "with my baby brain, has some stupid dog people trying to get the run of my home, the leader of which just happens to be the person I'm destined to spend the rest of my life with, which is just GREAT. Also, it's MY responsibility to fix all this because y'know, why not? It's my freaking house — so you have no right to prevent me from drowning my senses in alcohol so I can pretend the whole ordeal isn't happening for the time being!" I ranted in one breath, spitting a thousand words per second. I grabbed his wrist and snatched my drink back with a scowl.

  I chugged the rest of the glass in one go. "Can I have a shot of the strongest thing you have?" I asked the bar tender.

  "Woah, woah," Wolfie put his hand up to slow me down and made a reach for the new shot.

  "Calm down DAD. It takes like fifty of these to get me even a little tipsy. Vampire metabolism," I told him with a lazy smile before drowning the shot. even with the heightened effects the alcohol is supposed to have to compensate for our fast metabolisms, I have a pretty high tolerance. I smiled a bright one at the bar tender. "Another one, please. Keep them coming, don't be shy" I turned to Wolfie, and he's looking at me funny. So are some of the others. Not because of the metabolism thing, everyone knows about that. I'm just not the type to get wasted — like I plan to. Especially in a fancy event like this.

I've been told I dance like I'm tipsy either way so. . . Eh. "If you need to find me, I'll be here," I told Wolfie. I shot the next drink the bar tender provided down my throat.

And another.

And another.

And a couple more.

  And another few.

And silence.

That's all I got as reaction.

Wolfie seemed surprised by me taking my, what? 20th shot unfazed and not even close to being finished.

  I raised an eyebrow with a smirk. It's funny seeing him surprised. "Did you think I was kidding about getting drunk out of my mind?"

  He stood there staring for a second, then he blinked and shook his head to clear it. "Not happening. You are not going to embarrass me." He pointed at where we are standing. "I brought you to this event."

  "Yeah but, Y'know I got an invitation of my own," I raised an eyebrow. "I'm obviously seen as a separate party from you."

  "Yes, but we're trying to change that, remember? The whole 'trophy on the arm' thing," he smiled fakely, throwing my own words in my face. "You're just a girl that is accompanying me. Nothing more. That's the message we're going for here." He stretched his bitter sweet smile even more, just adding to how staged this whole experience has been. The locking arms, the dancing.

  "Oh, I remember," I rolled my eyes.

  Should I tell him it's never going to happen?

  I'm too bad at first impressions to ever be just that girl that Jason brought. When people see me it's probably always going to be something more like, 'oh boy, it's Maria' or 'oof, remember last time she was here?'

  . . . Eh, he'll figure it out.