Page 69 of Robbin’ the Rich

Five minutes later, I was singing. Apparently, my convictions had limits. The entire team crowded around the karaoke stage while strangers cheered us on. Mel reluctantly joined. Sonia claimed she wasn't participating and then somehow knew every word. Zella treated the microphone like she was headlining Madison Square Garden. Ariel bounced beside us singing lyrics she absolutely did not know. And through all of it, Micah laughed.

By the second round of shots, I was feeling excellent.

By the third, I was leaning heavily into everything. I laughed harder, talked louder, became unusually affectionate, as the world started to get a little blurry around the edges. Micah sat beside me in the booth while I rested my head on his shoulder.

"This is nice," I said.

"It is."

"You know what else is nice?"

"What?"

I poked his chest. "You. You are wonderful."

Micah laughed. "I think that's the alcohol talking."

"No." I pointed again. "The alcohol is making me honest."

"Oh no." The table erupted.

I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my drink.

At some point Belle ended up singing Bon Jovi. But the icing on the cake was Ariel convincing Van to get up there and do a Love Shack duet with her. By the time the night was winding down, I was officially drunk. I had left buzzed by the time the shots came out, and tipsy left me after the third.

I looked to Micah. I was ready to go home. Or more specifically I was ready to have him take me home.

“Hey,” I said to him.

I may have stumbled when I was there, but he reached out and caught my arms steadying me.

“Woah.”

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“Will you take me home?”

“It would be my honor.”

“It would be my honor…” I said mocking him with a flourished bow… that promptly made me trip.

He steadied me before giving me that stupid gentle smile I was growing all too fond of. “Alright, let’s get you home.”

He gathered my things and put me in his car. There was a definite chance I would feel this tomorrow, but right now my pleasantly alcohol-soaked state, that felt like a problem for future Robin.

15

MICAH

The drive back to my house was filled with the kind of conversation that only made sense when one person was pleasantly drunk and the other was trying very hard not to laugh. Robin spent ten minutes explaining why Belle had somehow cheated at karaoke, despite the fact that karaoke wasn't technically a competition. Then she moved on to a detailed breakdown of a questionable referee call from the second period before abruptly changing subjects and making my pinky swear I would never tell anyone she loved pumpkin spice because it wasn’t just for ‘basic bitches,’ just saying that was anti-feminist.

I didn't try to follow the logic. I just listened.

The truth was, I liked listening to her. I liked the way she got animated when she cared about something. I liked how her hands moved when she talked and how her voice got a little louder when she was passionate. Even half-drunk and running on adrenaline from the bout, she was still entirely herself.

When we pulled into my driveway, Robin stared at the house through the windshield for a moment before turning to me.