She doesn't even blush. She must be drunk. "Both." She nods. "But… you've been different tonight." She presses her palm against my chest. "I'm not complaining."
I'm tempted to pin her to that wall and fuck her right here.
But I don't fuck drunk women.
Even so, I squeeze her tighter as I take the last few steps to my car. I press the unlock button. The car beeps. The locks click.
I open Lacey's door for her.
Instead of sliding into her seat, she turns and presses her ass against the backseat door. "You're angry."
"No."
"Something." Her brown eyes fix on mine. "You looked surprised. At the show. And when you saw the ring. Your brother didn't tell you?"
I say nothing.
"He didn't ask for your help."
I say nothing.
She stares back at me, her eyes earnest and intense. Most people give up on staring contests with me right away.
Lacey doesn't.
She holds my gaze for a full minute. "You don't have to admit it verbally. It's obvious in your expression."
"He didn't tell me or ask for help."
"That must hurt."
It's a more sympathetic explanation than me being a fucking asshole who wants everyone miserable so they need me. "He's an adult. It's good he's independent."
She shakes her head. "He's your best friend and he made a huge change in his life without asking your advice. He didn't even warn you about doing it mid-show."
"He's romantic. Impulsive."
"Maybe. But he was planning it. The stuff he said during our pitch. He knew." She tugs my t-shirt down my chest, rises to her tiptoes, and presses her lips to my exposed skin. "It's normal that you feel left out."
What can I say? I'm twenty-seven. I'm not about to throw down I don't want to talk about it. Especially when I can't stand her throwing down that same line about whatever happened with her ex.
"I like you, Mal." She drags her lips over my chest. "You don't want to share, fine. Let me make you feel good."
"You're drunk."
"But you want me?"
"You really have to ask?"
"Humor me."
; "I want to bend you over the hood and fuck you until you're screaming my name loud enough to wake up every single person in this building."
Her breath catches in her throat. She tugs at my t-shirt, pulling me closer and pushing me farther at once. "You should."
I want to. If she keeps asking, I might. Which means I need her to stop asking.