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“When did you start?”
“Back at Rutgers.”
I’m tired of talking about myself.
“Really?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement.
My impatience grows. His interest in my personal life is not necessary. We should get right to it. Kissing, fondling, dancing, anything that would cause a scandal if a photo happened to be leaked.
I take my glass back for another daring sip. The potent alcohol courses down my throat, startling and strangely invigorating.
He looks impressed—and blurry, very blurry.
I tighten my eyes shut as a thrilling sensation shoots through my brain. Maybe tequila wasn’t the best idea. But I figured I must loosen up a little to get Alex to let his guard down. Maybe I overdid it a bit.
I open my eyes to look at a fuzzier version of Alex. In the next moment, my knees give way under me.
“Wow.” I hear a trace of laughter and something akin to tenderness in his voice as he reaches for me and pulls me against him. Impulsively, my arms interlock around his neck.
“You drink, huh?” he says with a titter. “Sure.”
I blink rapidly, the familiar annoyance toward Alex coming back. “Shut up,” I mutter, my voice muffled against his rock-hard chest, still not certain I can hold myself up.
And as much as I hate to admit it, it feels good to lean on him.
A little too good.
“Can I ask a question?” His voice is mild, brushing like feathers over my face.
My heart flutters. Now he’s the one to go off script, and it’s all because of me. If I hadn’t downed this shot, maybe we’d be kissing now, and maybe someone would have finally taken a few photos.
But instead, we’re still having this talk.
“Yeah.” I push myself from him and stand without assistance. I’m buzzed, but my eyesight has cleared. Meanwhile, my inhibitions are in the basement.
“Why do you want to be here?” The corners of his eyes are still crinkled when he looks down at me. “I’m not an idiot, Brit. You’ve been to nightclubs plenty of times. I can tell. Just the same way I can tell you’re faking the uptight act you put on to fool David. And yet, you asked me to bring you here. What game are you playing?”
I underestimated him.
And now, with the alcohol buzzing through my system, I can’t even think hard enough to muster up a good line of defense.
“You can barely stand me,” Alex concludes, his eyes losing their amusement and looking more serious. “But we’veknown each other long enough to cut the crap. You can just be honest. Tell me what’s up.”
A small spark of worry quivers deep in my belly. I need to come up with something to say, or I’m going to ruin my plan all by myself.
I look up at him, and the concern in his gaze ignites a different kind of spark.
No, I tell myself firmly. Alex doesn’t care about me. He just wants me to tell the truth.
Or at least what he thinks is the truth.
“I’m into you,” I blurt out, grateful for the boldness the alcohol granted me. I keep my eyes locked on his as I let my hazy brain spit out more words. “I like you. And I didn’t want to end the night when all I could think of was kissing you.”
Damn.
I went off script big time.
Another drink would be just right to numb the millions of thoughts spiraling in my head.
