“Not preppy enough for you?” I tease, but underneath my skin, irritation surfaces.

She props her elbow on the bar and watches me, not saying anything. It’s making me uncomfortable. I want to ask her what the hell she’s thinking about and why she’s staring at me like that, but I don’t because I’m afraid of the answer. “What do you want to drink?” she asks.

I shrug, taking an uneasy deep breath, hating how unsettled I feel inside. When did things get so complex between us? How did I let it get that way? “I’m going to have to go with tequila.”

She giggles under her breath. “To kill ya coming up.”

She raises her hand, leans over the bar, and flags down the bartender. She slips off her jacket, the thin straps of her dress revealing her shoulders and the low-cut back showing her smooth skin. I’m not sure if she does it on purpose, to get the bartender’s attention, but it works. She orders a shot of vodka and a shot of tequila. He grins at her, drinking her in, and I want to punch him in the face just for looking. I’m not much of the jealous type, so the feeling throws me off a little.

The guy on the barstool next to Lila starts flirting with her a few seconds later, eying her lips as she chews on the straw. He’s older, at least twenty-five, wearing a black suit and ridiculously shiny shoes. Lila seems vaguely interested in him, not laughing at his jokes, yet she lets him place his hand on her thigh and inch it up north.

I’m getting pissed. I’ve never had much of a possessive side—I’ve seen my father overact too much with my mother, even if she was just talking to the mailman—but right now my jealous, controlling side is coming out. As the bartender sets the shots down in front of us, I grab the top of her barstool and spin her in my direction so the guy’s hand falls off her leg.

Her eyes widen as the guy shoots a glare at me. “What the hell, Ethan?”

I have an arm on each side of her and my hands are just beside her hips. I lean in so she can hear me. “If you want me to stay here with you and take shots, your attention needs to be on me.” I wince at my own words, but it’s too late and I can’t retract them.

Her expression is calm, yet her eyes carry interest. “Okay,” she says simply and gathers the shot from the counter. She raises it in front of her, giggling. “To paying attention.”

I shake my head, rolling my eyes at her drunkenness, but a laugh slips through as I collect the shot glass. “All right, Lila.” I raise the glass upward. “To paying attention.”

I’m about to clink our glasses when she pulls back. “That goes for you, too,” she says and when my expression slips to confusion, she adds, “You have to pay attention to me tonight, too.”

Why do I see this going very, very wrong? “Okay.” I’m an idiot. “You have my one hundred percent undivided attention, Lila Summers.”

Her lips curve to a smile and then she clinks her glass against mine. We both pull away and tip our heads back, devouring our shots.

“Now what?” I ask, slamming the empty glass down on the bar while she gags on the drink—she always does.

Her grin is almost devilish. “Another one?”

I sigh and shrug, feeling slightly better as the alcohol burns its way through my body. “Why not?”


“Why do you think it’s so hard to be alone?” Lila asks, struggling to keep her eyes open as she gazes out at the night sky through the cab window.