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“Well…” I say as I drop into the passenger seat. “They only have one room.”
He stares at me like he’s waiting for me to explain.
“With one bed,” Isabel adds.
“You’re kidding,” Drake replies.
“Sleepover,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t look entertained. With a heavy sigh, he drives the car around to an empty parking space.
* * *
When we getinto the room, Isabel goes straight for the shower, leaving me and Drake alone in our awkwardness. He doesn’t even hesitate as he reaches for the bottle of tequila he packed in his bag.
I open the minibar and find some cold beers, so I grab one out and pop the top. It’s funny to think I would have never paid twelve dollars for one hotel beer ten years ago, but we’ve come a long way.
“Room service?” I ask, grabbing the menu.
“I’m not hungry,” he mutters after swallowing down a shot without so much as a wince.
With a scoff, I toss the menu down in front of him. Isabel is still in the shower, so she can’t hear us. If she could, I wouldn’t be so hard on him because she’s always trying to protect him or go easy on him, but right now, I’m done with his attitude.
“All right, fine…” I mumble.
“What?”
“Deal’s off. If you’re going to keep brooding about it, then we can pretend I never said anything. Okay?”
With a scowl, he pours another glass. “I wish I could forget it, Hunt.”
“What is your problem? There’s no damage done.”
“What about last night?” he asks, looking offended.
“What? One kiss?”
He takes the second shot and stalks over to the fridge to take out the other cold beer. “Drake, just fucking talk to me.”
When he finally turns toward me, I’m surprised to see the hurt in his eyes. “You assume that I just fuck anyone, anytime, and my feelings don’t get involved.”
I flinch. “What? I don’t think that—"
“Yes, you do. You think it means nothing to me, that I’ll just sleep with Isabel so you can get off on it, and then I’ll walk away like nothing happened. Is that how you think it will go?”
Jesus. Is that what I thought would happen?
“Drake, I didn’t—"
“It’s fine, Hunter. Just drop it, okay?”
As he cracks open his beer, I let his words sink in. Peeling the label off my bottle, my eyes keep dancing up to his face, and I wish I could let this go, but I think he might have just opened up a whole new can of worms.
“I don’t think that about you. I just…assumed that you were better at separating feelings from sex. I thought it would be easy for you.”
“With other people, it would be.”
“But not with Isabel?” I ask.
And when his eyes slide their way up to my face, it steals all of the air out of the room. “Not witheitherof you.”
