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I said it back, completely aware I didn’t know what the word meant. I tossed back my shot the same time he drank his milk.
And the fucker managed to make a competition out of it.
He chugged back his milk with greedy gulps, taking it down just as easily and effortlessly as I did with my small shot. I growled, starting to fill my glass again.
“Okay, little. Slow down.” He raised a hand. “This isn’t a competition.”
I didn’t listen, taking another shot. The burn triggered a coughing fit, and Ares pushed off the counter.
“That’s enough,” he said. He slid the whiskey down the counter. “Why the fuck are you always at me?”
My head shot back. “I think that’s the other way around.” He’d been attacking me from day one, attacking me now. “You come in here jumping down my throat when I’m going through all this shit. My brother could be fucking dying right now, and here I am with you when all I want… All I want…”
His lips parted. “What?”
I didn’t know what. I just knew I was scared, and I felt so alone. I’d felt it for so long, and the only time I had a shred of not feeling that way it’d been taken away. Trampled all over.
And by his fucking friend.
I didn’t want to admit that now, that what I felt not long ago might have been real. Especially in front of Ares. He wouldn’t care. Instead, I swallowed, Ares looking at me from across the kitchen.
He flicked at his curls. “I wasn’t trying to jump down your throat.”
Then what was he trying to do?
His gaze found the floor. He cursed. “Got an actual shot glass in this bitch?” he asked, my brow jumping. His jaw shifted. “I don’t drink shots out of fucking milk glasses.”
He pulled the bourbon over, completely serious. I eyed him. “I’m not driving your ass home.”
“I’ll call a ride share. Just get the fucking glass.”
I did, giving him what he asked for. He downed that shit like it was nothing before taking another. He chuckled. “You actually have good taste in bourbon, little.”
A compliment, and from this guy. I smiled. “Some stuff I brought down from Chi-Town.” I’d gotten it with my fake ID.
Ares nodded. “It’s good,” he said, but he didn’t take another glass. He studied the room. “Got any snacks or are you going to continue being a piss-poor hostess?”
He said this, but he smiled, and for some reason, I didn’t immediately throw an insult at him. I chuckled. “What do you like to eat?”
As it turned out, everything, and I ended up defrosting what felt like half the freezer. Bru kept a lot of garbage around the house, frozen cheese sticks and wings. I ended up being pretty hungry too, so I made it all, and Ares didn’t protest. I really didn’t know why I was entertaining his presence here. When we’d gotten here, I’d wanted him out of my house.
“Pick your poison.” I tossed him the remote from the living room. We’d assembled all the garbage food out there with our booze, and seeing Ares in my brother’s easy chair was frickin’ hilarious. Bru may be a large boy but he wasn’t nearly as tall as Ares. With his legs stretched out, my brother’s teammate basically had his long legs breaching the opposite side beneath the coffee table.
Ares barked a laugh, a bowl of cheese puffs in his lap. “You’re giving me a lot of trust, little.”
“Just pick something, Wolf,” I tossed. I popped a piece of popcorn chicken in my mouth. “And it better be good.”
I angled back to see him actually smiling from my brother’s chair. He said that name was on loan, but I was only forty percent sure I’d get away with calling him that.
“I got something for you,” he said, and when he grinned, it appeared I did get away with what I said. He proceeded to change the channel to The Office, and I was surprised. That was like my favorite television show.
“You like The Office?” I asked, taking a blanket from behind the couch. I put it over my legs while I ate chicken.
Ares grabbed a wing off our island of junk. We’d arranged it all out on the coffee table for easy access. He lifted a shoulder. “It’s cool. Jim fucking kills me.”
“And Dwight.”
“Yeah.” He faced me. “Wanna binge-watch? Now that I’m up, I don’t think I’m going to sleep anytime soon.”
