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“I guess.” I shrug, tipping back the rest of my beer. I need something stronger than this. I lift my hand, ordering a double.
“Mixing alcohols at your age? You’re going to have the hangover from hell.”
“My age? Careful, you’ll be here in a few years.” I smirk over the rim of my glass before taking a sip.
She shrugs, ordering her own mixed drink, still using the card I put down. And of course, I let her. That’s my job.
“Yeah, but you know what they say about men in their thirties.”
I lean against the bar, facing her. “No, I don’t know what they say about men in their thirties,” I repeat back to her.
“That they’re old,” she says, biting her lip to hide her smile. She thinks she’s hilarious.
I shake my head with a laugh. “Wasn’t the last guy you went out with in his forties?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
She shrugs again with a smirk. “I never said I didn’t like old men, just that you are one.”
I laugh again. “Brat.”
“Seriously though, what are you doing here all alone?”
“I needed a drink.”
She doesn’t buy it. “So why wouldn’t you go to a normal bar or have a drink at home instead of coming to a nightclub where the drinks cost twice as much?”
I glance across the bar to the redhead again. I’m probably going to regret saying this, but I know Thea won’t drop it until she gets an answer.
“I need to get laid.”
“Jesus Christ!” she cries. “I’m sorry I asked.”
She’s not sorry if her laugh is any indication. She’s mocking me.
I jerk back slightly when her fingers touch my arm, her hand running up over my chest and to my shoulder. She leans in close, whispering right up next to my ear. “You need my help.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, removing her hands from my body before I lose my mind.
She absentmindedly runs her finger along my forearm, still leaned in just as close. Close enough that I feel her warmth.
“If you really thought you’d be able to take that smokeshow redhead home tonight without any assistance, then you’re more delusional than I thought.”
I stare blankly at her until she rolls her eyes, frustrated I’m not catching on. “You have to make her jealous, dipshit. Make her believe you’re actually desirable.”
“Like fuck am I letting you be the person to do that.”
My tone is more aggressive than I intended, and I think it has to do with my heart beating faster than I want mixed with the alcohol starting to cloud my judgment.
“Why not?” she whines like she couldn’t possibly understand why I wouldn’t want her to… Want her to… Want her.Fuck.
“I do fine on my own,” I say, shrugging away from her. “Is that Amanda?” I ask as one of her best friends walks up to us with shots in hand.
“Mack! What’s my favorite big brother doing here tonight? Here,” she says, handing over one of the shots.
I tip the glass against hers. “Oh, you know. I was just hoping to see your beautiful smile.”
“I’ll show you something,” she says, grinning before tipping her shot back.
Thea slams her now empty shot glass against the bar. “He’s not even my older brother, dumbasses.”
