It’s not something I’ve ever had to worry about because no one in their right mind is going to mess with me and it’s not like I’ve ever had a girlfriend to look out for.
“You’re right.” I nod slowly. “It’s the least I can do.”
As I turn to go, one of the girls yells, “And for fuck’s sake, don’t forget to apologize!”
It’s solid advice.
Especially with the way I’m feeling. My head is spinning and I don’t know which way is up. And for once, I can’t blame it on alcohol.
I clear a path through the crowd easily, ignoring the shouts of well-wishers as I focus on my objective. The air is hot and humid when I step outside, but it’s an improvement from the close quarters of the frat house and the hundreds of sweaty coeds that would surely have the Fire Marshall quoting occupancy limits.
A quick scan of the lawn confirms Sutton is long gone, so I jog to the sidewalk, gaze sweeping left and right.
My pulse quickens. She’s nowhere to be seen.
How is that even possible?
It’s only been a minute—two, max—since she walked out.
She can’t have gotten far. I turn west and jog toward home. There are only a few routes she’s likely to take, and with any luck, I can catch up to her.
At the end of the road, I turn right and catch sight of her as she steps off the sidewalk and into the shadows.
The fuck?
I put on a burst of speed, ignoring the sweat that beads along my hairline.
When I finally catch up to her, she’s cutting across a parking lot.
A dark, deserted parking lot.
At the sound of my footfalls, she turns, eyes wide, and raises what looks like a cannister of pepper spray.
“Glad to see you have some sense of self-preservation.” I throw up my hands in self-defense. “But I’d prefer it if you didn’t spray me with that shit.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She lowers the tiny black bottle and sighs. “What are you doing, Parker?”
“Walking you home.”
She arches a brow. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself.”
Here we go again.
The woman has an independent streak a mile wide. Under normal circumstances, it would be a turn-on. In the middle of the night when she insists on taking shortcuts through deserted parking lots?
Not so much.
“Fair enough, but your friends would feel better if you weren’t alone and we’re going the same way, so…”
She rolls her eyes and, for the second time tonight, walks away from me, a dark shadow in the milky white glow of the moon.
I fall in step beside her, our footfalls quiet on the blacktop.
“Look, I get that you don’t want to talk to me, and I respect that, so how about I talk and you listen?”
She says nothing, just wraps her arms around her midsection and keeps walking.
That has to be a good sign, right?
