“Thought so. Saw you play tonight. You were great.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Before I can answer, Noah steps forward slightly. Not between us, but close enough that his presence is felt.
“He’s fine,” Noah says. Cold. Professional. Typical for him. “Thank you.”
She looks at him, then back at me. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you were with someone.”
“I’m not—” I start to say.
But she’s already walking away.
I turn to Noah. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
“You just chased her off.”
“I didn’t chase anyone off. I simply informed her that you didn’t need another drink.”
“I can make that decision myself, thanks.”
“You’re on probation. Drinking with strangers who might post about it on social media is a bad idea.”
“She was being friendly. Not everything is a PR crisis.”
“Everything is a potential PR crisis when you’re under league scrutiny.”
I stare at him. There’s something in his expression…something tight and controlled that doesn’t match his words.
“Are you serious right now?”
“Completely.”
“She offered to buy me a drink. That’s it.”
“And if she posted a photo of you drinking with her? Ifsomeone spins that as you partying with fans while on probation?”
“Dude, that’s such a reach.”
“That’s my job. Thinking about worst-case scenarios.”
But it doesn’t feel like worst-case scenario thinking. It feels like something else.
“You know what I think?” I say, dropping my voice as I move toward him.
“What?”
A grin lifts my lips. “I think you didn’t like her talking to me.”
The slightest hint of red creeps up the sides of his neck. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it? Because you got pretty territorial pretty fast.”
“I wasn’t being territorial. I was being cautious.”
