May Contain Wine (SWAT Generation 2.0 5)

I got out, too.

I didn’t want him to think that this was a date or anything. Where he used to open my door for me, offer me his arm, and walk me to the front door as if I needed the help to get there.

Well, I didn’t.

I didn’t need anything from him.

What I needed was him to leave and stop confusing me.

What I got was Louis being Louis and poking his nose into my business even when he wasn’t supposed to care or want to be in it.

When I went to pass him and head up to my front porch, he caught me by the arm and hauled me back.

In the high heels I was wearing, I had no choice. It was either go in the direction he wanted or break my ankle.

I chose not to break my ankle and instead fell into Louis—which secretly was where I wanted to be all along.

“Why do you do this to me?”

I didn’t know what he meant.

At least, I didn’t know what he meant until he kissed me.

Then I knew exactly what he meant.

Mouth on mine, he pressed his tongue inside my mouth and licked against mine, shooting sparks of excitement through me with each thrust.

His fingers tightened on my hips, dragging me closer and closer to his body.

And his chest? It felt different. Broader. More muscular.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I was kissing him back. Running my fingers along the muscled torso that I’d longed to touch.

But just as quickly as the kiss began, it ended.

And how he ended it made my heart wilt into a tiny little shriveled piece of what it used to be.

“Nothing has changed.” He panted against my lips. “I still want you. Let’s get a hotel room. Then I can bring you home before your curfew.”

I pulled back with horror, realizing only just then that despite him feeling me up and kissing me, he didn’t plan to do anything more than what we were doing right then.

Son of a bitch.

I pulled myself away with a yank of my head and wiped off my lips with the back of my hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’m not a one-night stand, Louis.” Louis’ eyes narrowed. “And I’m not just some girl you can come home to when you’re on leave. I won’t be waiting next time.”Chapter 1

Low Life.

-Weiner Dog Dad

Louis

A couple years later

I ran into the blood center, where the transaction took place once a month, as if my ass was on fire.

Like clockwork, once every couple of months—or if she needed it sooner—I donated my blood to Calloway. Calloway, my ex who hated my guts.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled as I rolled up my long-sleeved shirt. “I’m here. I apologize.”

The nurse, the hottie who continuously tried to get me to take her number, grinned wickedly at me as she waved the needle she would be using to take my blood.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” she said sweetly, as if she wasn’t inconvenienced at all. “I completely understand.”

There was an indelicate snort from the woman on the bed beside the one I was currently leaning back on, and I looked over to find Calloway Alvarez leaning back on the table with her hat covering her face.

I wanted to rip it off and throw it across the room.

I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned back and held out my arm for Patricia to take my blood.

“Oh, dear. Your veins are absolutely popping today,” Patricia cooed.

“Listen, Palin,” Calloway snorted. “Just take his blood already and stick it into me. I have places to be and things to do, none of which have you flirting with ol’ Louie over there.”

I growled under my breath.

I hated it when she called me Louie. It fucking hurt to be reminded about what was no longer mine.

“It’s Prissy,” Prissy—why could I never remember her name?—said. “And you know it has to be tested first.”

“It doesn’t, and we’ve already cleared this with management.” Calloway rolled her eyes. “Now, let’s skip this song and dance we play every time, and get on with it, okay?”

It was true.

This was something that the two of them liked to argue about every time. And, like every time, Calloway got what she wanted. Mostly because we both knew that my blood was safe for her, and always would be.

“Prissy. Palin. Patricia. Whatever your name is, hurry up. I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”

I winced, looking at my watch.

She actually had more like twenty-five, but I wasn’t going to point that out. But then I quickly remembered that this was Saturday morning, not a weekday. She didn’t have work today. Which was why we’d planned it this day anyway.

Prissy moved quickly after that, setting us both up.

But she was a bit harder on Calloway than she was on me.

“Bitch,” Calloway muttered when Prissy shoved the needle in a little too hard.