FALSE DRUNK
There's no one home but the two of them. Winston's got a date with Shelby, and Schmidt and Cece are probably…ugh. She can't even come to say it. They're just busy, she settles.
"Trying to kiss you on his birthday."
"DRINK!" they exclaim at the same time.
Clink.
Nick takes a long swig of his beer, and Jess downs just enough to abide by the rules. The game is called Money in the Jar, and the instructions are simple: reminisce the times Schmidt has done something douchey, and drink. It's the only thing they could think of doing because they couldn't agree on anything else. And there's beer stocked in the fridge to the brim.
"Your turn," he slurs.
"Hm…" She brings her fingers to her chin, gesturing that she's deep in thought. "Cece." Her voice is grim.
"Oh, definitely drink. But this time you need to drink more than minimum. Finish that bottle."
She doesn't argue. Her bottle's empty and she's finally on her third one (Nick's on his fifth).
"Yes! There you go, Jess! Now you're drunk! Like me!"
"Oh, no no no, Nick Miller. I need two more to be up to speed with you. Another!"
Three full bottles sit on the coffee table, in addition to the eight empty ones, as he hands her 'another'. She struggles to finish her fourth, but with a little push and she gets to where he is, beer-wise.
"Chug, chug, chug, chug!" The chants liven up the loft, formerly lonely without the presence of the other two.
The bottom of the bottle slams hard on their coffee table.
"Now I'm drunk like you!"
At that moment, they fall back on the couch, their legs and arms sprawled all over and overlapping each other's.
"I think I'm out of Schmidt's doozyness."
"Doucheyness."
"Me too."
Jess faces Nick, who's staring out at the empty space in front of him. He looks amazed at nothing, and it warms something in her. "Don't you think it's sad that people need to get drunk to appreciate life?"
"Drunk? Isn't it die? Like, people need to be dying to appreciate life."
"Isn't that was I said?"
It's not a joke, neither is it funny, but they laugh hysterically like it is.
"We should hang out more, Jess. Just the two of us."
Smiling, she pats his shoulder in agreement.
They sit quietly, heads resting and chests rising and glancing at one another every once in a while. Something's strange about the atmosphere though. With five beers in their system, they should be creating a bigger ruckus than they are. Than they did. The silence is eerie, especially for Jess. She drank two bottles one after the other, so she should be reacting boisterously with all that alcohol fuelling her, but she's still. Nick, on the other hand, would have had time to drop his blood alcohol since he had the five beers in a longer time frame.
"Hey, remember how we almost…?" he asks.
The memory comes back to her. How they nearly had a threesome with their landlord. How he showed her how the 'right' way to pick up a mug. From behind. How they were merely inches away from kissing before she stopped the whole thing. How he held her face as he moved in on it…
"Would you have actually done it?"
"Not with Remy there."
They fall in silence again, but Nick is fast to say something else.
"Why don't you sleep with me?"
Her eyes grow wide. "What?"
"Everyone's out tonight. I don't want to be alone. Sleep with me."
Somehow her mind is clear enough to answer honestly.
"Nick, you are drunk. We're drunk. You sleep alone anyway." Her mind spits out another reason she's not having sex with him. "And you taking advantage of me while I'm drunk? Money in the jar," she winks.
She gets up to go to the bathroom, expecting to stumble on her own feet almost immediately, but she doesn't.
"No, wait." He grabs her hand and pulls her down. In a flurry, Jess lands in his lap.
He's still holding her hand, and with the other he places it on her cheek. Looking her in the eye, he says, "Kiss me… Jess…"
He leans in and just before their lips meet, she staggers back onto her feet.
"Nick! I am not sleeping with you. Don't kiss me. Don't try to kiss me again. Please." Her voice is firm, but you can hear that she's somewhat helpless.
This time Jess starts for the kitchen since her heading to the bathroom failed. She doesn't trip again. Her vision is fine too. And her stance. And she's walking to the kitchen in a straight line. And she doesn't need to throw up.
Her hand wraps around the handle of the fridge and she pulls it open. She scans it for the beer, and when she finds it, the label gives her an explanation.
NON-ALCOHOLIC BEER
"Nick, who bought the beer?"
He was sitting in defeat before her question. "I did."
She pulls one out of its neat rows and walks back to him. "These are non-alcoholic. Did you know that?"
He stands. "Of course I did." His lips are contorted downwards, resembling his trademark duck face. She can tell he's being over convincing.
"You knew you were buying these? And you knew we wouldn't actually be drunk? Why would you do that? I mean, if you wanted to sleep with me so badly, you should have bought pink wine. You know how pink wine makes me slutty."
"Because I wanted to do this and I wanted to have an excuse for doing it."
She's confused, but doesn't get to ask what he means because he's already shooting for her lips and holding on to her waist and pulling her close.
So close.
Her hands are around his neck and she presses her body against his instead of pushing him off. It's warm and moves with hers perfectly. The intensity of the kisses lessens as he pulls away.
"Why aren't you stopping me now?" he says with a grin.
"Because…" she trails off, her eyes on his.
He laughs a little. Their bodies are still close.
"You know how you said you wouldn't have gone through with it if Remy was there? Well… He's not here now…" she descends into a whisper with every word. She's trying to be seductive because there is nothing sexy about how tonight's been.
"Don't do that, Jess."
She doesn't get to say sorry before he kisses her again. And again. And again. And again, until they lead one another into her bedroom, and Nick doesn't sleep alone tonight.