Drink and Text

A few minutes, and another glass later, Ethan feels pretty good. Really good.

Laughing, Layla starts pouring herself another drink. “You know for somebody who doesn't drink you’re keeping up pretty well.”

Ethan holds out his glass while checking his phone with the other. “I drink.”

H: What the fuck Ethan?

H: Are you trying to make me jealous?

“Please,” Layla snickers, leaning over to pour, “You can’t fool me.”

Glancing over, Ethan frowns at her. “How can you tell?”

E: wat no.

“You’re drunk.”

“Pft, If I’m drunk why did you just say I was keeping up?”

“Because,” Layla finished pouring, a proud smile on her face. “I’m drunk too.”

Ethan snorts slightly, fighting back a laugh, but once Layla cracks up and giggles it comes out anyway. They laugh together for a long few moments, before calming down and sipping their drinks. Ethan looks down at the phone in his hand. No response.

E: R U jealous?

“Top you up?” The question pulls Ethan’s attention, Layla reaching for the bottle, bottle, enough left to fill both cups once more.

“Might as well,” Ethan holds out his glass again, accepting the top off.

As Layla fills the glasses, Ethan’s phone buzzes again.

H: Yeah.

“So…” she shifts, edging closer on the couch. “Who has been stealing your attention away from me?” The question comes off as a little accusatory.

“Ah. Sorry.” Ethan taps his phone against his tight. “It’s a…” he’s not sure how to even begin.

“A girl?”

Ethan sucks his teeth. While it left out all the history of their relationship, it wasn't incorrect. “Yeah…”

“From here or…”

“Not here.” Ethan glances down at the screen, thinking up a reply.

“I see. Might I ask what you’re talking about?”

Shrugging, Ethan can’t really think up a lie. “She’s jealous.”

Layla raises a blonde brow, letting the obvious question go unasked as she sips her drink.

“Of… you.”

“Me?” Layla takes another sip, her brow now furrowed.

“I told her we were having a drink, and she said it made her jealous.”

“Hm.” Layla leans back slightly, a pensive look on her face. “So is that why you agreed to a drink with me? To make a poor girl jealous?”

“What? No!” Ethan honestly didn't.

A dismissing giggle from across the couch eases his mind. “I’m kidding! But, and I say this quite seriously: Do you want to make her jealous?”

Ethan raises a brow, unsure of what she means.

Layla holds out her hand. “May I?”

Ethan looks at her hand, his wine-washed mind skeptical. “What’re going to do?”

“Nothing bad,” she beckons with her fingers. “Promise.”