and if i posted an eminath(???) snippet what then. huh. huh tough guy.
Nathalie wasn’t sure if she ever truly thought they’d succeed. The blue and green jewel fastened between the front of Emilie’s dress proved otherwise. A dress worn in celebration.
A drinking game. Never have I ever. Flip cup. Matchbox. Kings cup. Beer pong. If Emilie got drunk enough there was even a chance she’d attempt a keg stand.
They settled for Quarters. A rather simple game, considering the two higher class people she’s playing with, but they couldn’t agree and Nathalie was the deciding factor.
Clink!
“Ha! Lick it up, Gabi!” Emilie laughed, loud and authentic, wholly and rather ridiculously herself. With an amused finger pointed straight in her fiancés face, she looked at home in the moment. This was her domain.
It helped that she had already taken a few shots prior.
Gabriel grumbled, mouth pulled into a serious frown, one that was only becoming more and more prominent with each passing day. The shot glass met his lips for a passing moment, and the alcohol was gone. Quick and painless. He set the glass back down in the center of the coffee table they were sat around, silently pressing his eyebrows together in mild disdain. The quarter resting between his thumb and pointer.
“Humph,” Emilie puffed out a breath, bored with Gabriel’s reaction. “He’s no fun to play drinking games with.”
“And you’re assuming you are?” Nathalie retorted in a mild voice, smirk barely restrained.
“Nathalie!” Emilie gasped in half hearted surprise, playfully batting a hand at the other woman’s arm. “I’m a hoot and you know it.”
Her only response was, “I believe it’s your turn, Gabriel.”
Emilie gave her a gentle shove with an accompanying tipsy giggle.
The quarter almost leapt from his fingertips, floating in the air like a butterfly before landing perfectly in the glass.
“Nathalie.” Gabriel decided, not bothering to cast a glance in her direction as he passed the next shot her way. Then he stood, wordlessly, and bent over to place a kiss on the top of Emilie’s head.
The two women watched him silently stalk away into the recesses of their home, stumbling only slightly from intoxication. Off to bed, supposedly.
“Goodnight, Love.” His fiancée called after him, earning an acknowledging wave in turn. Emilie cocked her head to the side and jutted out her bottom lip in an adoring pout before saying, “He’s never been able to hold his liquor very well. You should have seen our Gabi in his college years, oh!— He was such a lightweight!
“A giant, clumsy, babbling, shit-faced man, and the next morning— oh, Nathalie, this was truly the best part— he’d come to me, hungover and aching, and tell me how much he needed me.”
Emilie let out a content sigh at the memory, bringing a hand to her chest and resting it over her heart in a show of love. “It was beautiful.”
“That man is going to be the death of you.” Nathalie groaned, throwing back the final shot deemed hers and ignoring the bitter way it tasted like being stuck between the two lovers.
“Mm.” Emilie hummed in response, tracing a finger over the brooch nestled between her breasts. “So be it.”
