Chapter 53
While Liz inspected the mini bar, Lucky went back into the bathroom and pulled off his shirt, hanging it over the shower rod to dry. He then rubbed his head with a towel, trying to dry his hair as much as possible.
“Hey, what’s your pleasure?” Liz shouted from the other room.
“What?” he asked, thrown by the question.
“To drink! This thing has pretty much everything, what do you want?”
“Oh, um, is there any Scotch?” he shouted back, discarding the wet towel and opening the door.
“You are your father’s son, aren’t you?” she asked with a laugh as she dug around in the cabinet, searching through the tiny bottles for Scotch..
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He walked out into the room and took a seat on one of the beds.
“Nothing, just that Luke usually drinks Scotch, too,” she explained, still searching. “A ha, here it is.” She pulled out a bottle and grabbed one for herself before standing up. She turned around to hand it to him and froze, not expecting to see him shirtless. “Um, why aren’t you dressed?”
Lucky chuckled and reached out for the bottle. “My shirt’s drying in the bathroom. Does that bother you?”
She quickly shook her head and sat down on the other bed, averting her eyes from him. “No, no, it’s fine. Must be nice, though. I’m stuck wearing my sopping wet shirt.”
Unable to resist, he smirked at her as he opened his bottle. “No one’s stopping you from taking it off.”
She looked at him in shock, midway through unscrewing the cap on her bottle of rum. “Excuse me?”
Lucky shrugged, taking a swig of Scotch. Liz rolled her eyes and looked away again as she quickly finished opening her bottle. She stole another glance at him, marveling at how muscular he was, then shook her head and downed the entire bottle. She got up and tossed it in the garbage can as she walked back to the bar. Lucky laughed as he quickly finished his own.
“Who knew Elizabeth Webber was a lush?” he chuckled.
She turned and glared at him. “I’m not a lush. I’m just...thirsty.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say. While you’re in there, can you toss me another one, too?”
“Now who’s the lush?” she asked bitterly, throwing another bottle of Scotch over her shoulder at him. Figuring it would be easier than making trips back and forth, she grabbed a handful of bottles and brought them back to her bed. She dumped them on the bedspread and laid down on her side, sifting through them for something she liked.
“Save some for me over there, will ya?” Lucky asked in amusement. He laid down on his bed, leaning on his elbow so that he was facing hers. He took a drink from his bottle as he watched her search through the pile in front of her, holding them up to read the labels one by one. “You know, it doesn’t really matter which one you drink. They all have pretty much the same result.”
She shot him an evil look, then went back to her search. “Sorry, but unlike you Spencers, I can’t just drink anything. I actually care what it tastes like.”
“I should probably be offended by that, but at this point, I don’t really care. What’s up with the sudden hostility, anyway?”
Liz settled on a bottle of brandy and opened it, looking over at him. “What do you mean? I’m always hostile to you. What’s so different about it now?”
He shrugged, taking another gulp. “Well, you weren’t exactly hating me earlier today, so...”
She blushed and looked down at the bed. “Moment of weakness,” she muttered. “Won’t happen again, trust me! Anyway, you were just as involved as I was.”
Now it was Lucky’s turn to be uncomfortable. “Um, yeah, well, it was probably just temporary insanity.” He swallowed the rest of the bottle and tossed it at the garbage can. “Next.”
Liz snickered and tossed him another bottle, not even looking to see what it was. He read the label, shrugged, and opened it. Like he said, they all had the same result.
~*~
Two hours, many bottles of alcohol, and a few calls to room service (for more alcohol) later, Liz stumbled over to the mini bar to see what was left.
“What do you want?” she asked, her speech slightly slurred. “Clear or brown?” She turned around and held up two bottles, scrutinizing their contents.
“I haven’t had clear in a while,” Lucky responded. She tossed him the bottle of vodka as she made her way back to her bed. Lucky reached up to catch it and missed, watching as it hit the floor and rolled away. “Damn,” he cursed, sliding off of the bed onto the floor to chase after it.
Liz giggled as she watched him crawl over to the rogue bottle, then leaned over and snatched the remote control off of the nightstand. “I’m bored. What’s on TV around here?” She turned on the television and flipped through the channels until she landed on something that looked familiar. By this time, Lucky had retrieved the vodka. He walked over to Liz’s bed and flopped down onto it.
“Hey, Einstein, wrong bed!” she scolded, slapping at him with the back of her hand.
“This one’s closer to the TV,” he reasoned, taking a drink. “What, don’t you trust me to sit here?”
“Not when you’re smashed,” she grumbled, scooting away from him. “It’s bad enough that you kissed me today.”
Lucky turned to look at her, nearly dropping his bottle in the process. “I did not! And I’m not smashed!”
“Yes, you are! And you did too kiss me. I remember, I was there!”
Lucky frowned and rolled onto his back, leaning back on his elbows. “Oh, yeah. Well, you weren’t exactly complaining!” he shot back, grinning in victory.
Liz swallowed the rest of her drink and chucked the bottle across the room, completely missing the garbage can. She frowned, then looked over at him. “How was I supposed to complain, when you had your tongue down my throat?”
Lucky sat up quickly, startled by her comment. He waited a moment for the room to stop moving, then glared at her. “I did not have my tongue down your throat! You’re such a liar!”
“Am not! You did...at least, I think you did...” She sighed and stood up, nearly falling over at the sudden movement, then walked back to the bar. “Oh, I don’t know, you’ve confused me!”
“How did I confuse you?” he asked, taking another gulp of his vodka. “I just told you that I didn’t do it.”
She grabbed two more bottles and went back to the bed, sitting down next to him. “Well, I remember somebody doing that! Maybe it wasn’t you, though.”
Lucky smirked at her, taking one of the bottles from her hand. “Oh, so I’m not the only guy you’ve been kissing?”
“Why, are you jealous?” she asked, opening the bottle of rum in her hand.
“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, if it had been me, you would remember!”
“Yeah, right, like you’re God’s gift to kissing or something,” she snorted, taking a drink of her rum. She blushed slightly as she thought back to their kiss that afternoon, remembering how passionate it had been.
Lucky thought for a moment, determined to convince her that she was remembering wrong. Getting an idea, he gulped down the rest of his drink and tossed it aside, then motioned for her to do the same. “Get rid of that or something. I’m going to show you that it wasn’t me you’re thinking of.”
“Huh?” she asked, looking down at the bottle in her hand, then back at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Just finish that, or give it to me and I’ll finish it.”
She wasn’t about to let him have it, so she quickly drank the rest and threw the bottle across the room. “Fine, there. Now what?”
Before she could say another word, he slid over and grabbed her face, pulling her towards him and kissing her. She was surprised at first, but her inhibitions were long gone, so she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss, parting her lips as he slid his tongue into her mouth. As the kiss became more heated, they fell back onto the bed, Lucky rolling on top of her. She ran her hands up and down his bare back, something she had been wanting to do all night, and he flinched as his chest made contact with her cold, damp shirt. In his drunken haze, the most logical thing he could think of was to remove it, so he reached up and unbuttoned it. They sat up again, still kissing, and he slid the shirt off of her, tossing it to the other bed. A few minutes later, he broke the kiss and leaned back to catch his breath.
“You’re right,” she said in between gasps for air. “It wasn’t you.”
