Chapter Seven #2
Those two shots did eventually become four, and then six, and now we’re each three shots deep as we’re leaving the bar as it turns to early evening, and I know she must be starting to feel hungry.
“Is there food at this bar, or should we stop? I know you must be getting hungry.” I wrap an arm around her and kiss her temple before pulling her closer to me.
She fits perfectly right under my arm against me, just like she always has, and I don’t miss the quiet sigh of contentment as she slides an arm around my waist.
“A little.” She giggles, and I can tell that the alcohol is starting to catch up with her.
She has a higher tolerance than most people her size, I’m sure, thanks to an introduction to alcohol far before she was twenty-one, but tequila usually gets her there faster than anything else.
She pulls out her phone, and my eyes immediately spot the name on it.
Not in a group text. Just one name with the number three next to it, indicating that Jase Sutton had texted her three times.
She opens it, and while it’s what I expected, it still annoys the shit out of me that he’s pressing her to meet them so badly.
Jase: Where you at?
Jase: You still going to meet us?
Jase: Leaving Refinery. Packed as hell. Text if you’re coming, and I’ll tell you where we’re at.
“He’s a thirsty little fuck, isn’t he?” I muse, and I don’t have to be looking at Saint to know that she rolled her eyes.
“Bold claim coming from you.” She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow, and before we take another step, I’ve pulled her off the sidewalk and have her pressed up against a gray stone building.
Her eyes flash up to mine in shock before panning the space behind me, my guess looking to see if anyone is paying attention to us.
“We’re in the middle of a busy street in New York. ”
“You think I give a fuck?” I chuckle before lowering my lips to be a breath away from hers.
“I’m thirsty, huh? Fine, I’ll give you this one.
But don’t act like you don’t love it or that you aren’t thirsty for every goddamn ounce of my attention.
” I grip her chin and take a step closer so I’m pressed against her.
“I can also recall countless times of waking up to over thirty messages after a night out from a certain girl, wondering where I was.” I think she’s about to protest, so I cut her off. “Tell me I’m lying.”
“No.” A smile finds her lips. “And I’ve never been that way with anyone other than you. I’ve never given him any signals that I’m interested.”
“I know.” I smile, and deep down, I do. I know Saint’s and my relationship went deeper than any others she’s had or could potentially have, and on some level, I see the problem with that.
I understand how years of codependency and trauma made it so we felt like we only needed each other to survive.
I remember my mother telling us once that we were incapable of forming meaningful relationships because we only ever chose each other.
It caused a massive fight between her and Saint, which then led to an argument between Saint and me because she felt I hadn’t defended us enough.
The truth was, I hadn’t spoken up because I agreed with what my mom said.
I’d choose Saint over anyone every time, and I had no qualms about it. She was all that mattered to me.
I press a gentle kiss to her lips, intending for it to be innocent, before her hands find my shoulders and then move into my hair, pulling me harder against her just as her tongue slides between my lips.
I don’t know how long this goes on for, but at some point, I remember that we’re outside in the middle of a New York sidewalk and back off before I end up fucking her against the building.
Her eyes are still shut when I pull back, and when they flutter open, I see the alcohol has hit her in full force.
Neither of us has ever been against public displays of affection, but the way she’s looking at me makes me think she’d be okay with mounting me right here on the sidewalk.
“I’m hungrier for you than for food,” she murmurs before scanning my body salaciously. Her fingers play with the hem of my crew neck sweater before dragging her fingertip along the top of my jeans.
“Food first,” I tell her as I pull her hand away from my pants and drag it to my mouth. “Are you going to answer him?” I ask as we continue walking down the street.
“Do you want me to?”
“I don’t want you to feel pressured, but if we do, just know that his being all up in your face is not going to fly.”
“We’re really doing this?” she asks. “Telling people we’re together?”
“No, we’re telling people that I plan to have a ring on your finger within the year.”
She gasps and snaps her eyes to me. “You want to wait a whole year?” I can hear the sass in her voice, but I also think she’s just as anxious for me to propose as I am to get down on one knee.
“I said within a year. I want us to look at some first, so I can get a feel for what you like. I have an idea, but I want it to be your perfect ring.”
I see the grin spread across her gorgeous face even though she’s not looking at me anymore. She toys with her phone before she starts texting him back.
Where should we meet you?
About an hour later, after we popped into a bar for a light dinner, we are just getting to the bar to meet her friends.
Saint has sobered up slightly, thinking she may have to keep me in check, but I can still tell she’s riding the buzz from earlier and the glass of cabernet from the speakeasy-type restaurant we stopped at first. The bar has more of a lounge feel, but it’s not quite as packed as I’d expect for New York nightlife as it inches toward eight o’clock.
A part of me is disappointed by that fact, as it doesn’t allow Saint and me to slip away inconspicuously if we need to.
We spot them pretty quickly in a corner, sitting around a small round table, except there are only two of them now.
Jase and the girl. Amber? Abby? Wait…no, not Abby. Addie? Right, Addison.
I grab Saint’s elbow, stopping her from taking another step, and she turns to look at me.
“Wasn’t there more of them?” I ask her, and she follows my gaze, thankfully without alerting either of them that we’re here.
“I’m not about to entertain some bullshit fix-up or double date because they’re interested in us.
” Her eyes flash with annoyance, having been reminded of her friend’s potential interest in me, and I nod.
“Right, you remember she said I was hot? You want to watch your drunk friend flirt with me all night?”
She doesn’t have time to respond to my question because a woodsy cologne invades my senses just as an arm slings around my shoulders.
When I look over, I see a man standing between Saint and me, and he has an arm slung around her as well.
He was one of the guys who came over earlier, but there’s no chance in hell I remember his name.
“You guys made it! Perfect timing, we just ordered a bottle.”
“Hey, Dex,” Saint says.
“I was beginning to think you’d never show up, and then I’d have to hear Jase go on and on about you all night.
” I tense and pull slowly out of his grasp before shooting Saint a look I know she can read.
Dex, however, doesn’t seem to notice and also appears a bit intoxicated because he continues, “Don’t tell him I said that, will you?
But for the love of God, if there’s any interest there, throw him a bone tonight. ”
“She’s not interested,” I grit out without a thought that maybe she should field this conversation without my input.
His eyes pan to mine before giving me a smile and then back to Saint. “I didn’t get a good look at him earlier, but Addie is right, he’s hot. And the overprotective brother thing? Very hot.”
“Stepbrother,” I correct, wanting to make it very clear that we are not related.
He waves me off before turning to Saint.
“I have to take a leak, but think about it, yeah? You look hot, too, by the way. I am a fan of this jacket,” he says, pulling on her brown leather bomber before he turns and leaves without another word.
I watch him, slightly confused, until he disappears before turning to Saint. “So was he hitting on you… Or me?”
“You.” She chuckles as she shakes her head. “He is not into me, I swear.”
“Is he into women?”
“Women and men,” she informs me.
“You sure he’s not into you?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Trust me.”
“Fine, one less guy I need to be worried about. But clearly Jase is talking about you, so if we’re going over there, I hope you’re prepared to sit on my lap so he can stop wondering if you’re into him,” I tell her, giving her a look that I know she can read because I’ve never been good about handling guys openly hitting on her.
She bites down on her bottom lip as she stares in the direction of her friends before turning back to me. “Let’s just go. We can go to another bar or back to my apartment.”
I cross my arms over my chest even though I can feel her discomfort fueled by alcohol, and my instinct is to wrap my arms around her. “You backing out now?”
“No. But—” she starts when someone’s voice cuts through the space around us.
“Sebastian?” I turn toward the voice, and I already feel the tension flowing off Saint when the slender, tall, red-headed woman leans in for a half hug that I somewhat return.
“Miss Prescott. Hi, how are you?”