“I’m fine, you know.” She swatted at my arm when I reached for her. “You don’t have to baby me.”
“I’m not,” I muttered, steadying her anyway. I couldn’t help but touch her. “Just making sure you don’t crack your skull open.”
She glared at me, wobbling in heels that had no business being worn outside of a photo shoot. “You walk like you’re trying to leave me behind.”
“Maybe I should, with all that fucking attitude.”
“Asshole,” she grumbled, but her voice was soft around the edges. “Ugh, I don’t even know why I’m following you.”
Because I’d burn down the world before I let anyone else have you tonight. Because I couldn’t fucking help myself.
“Because I’m taking you home.”
She stopped walking, planting her feet, stubborn as hell. “Where’s Ben? He was supposed to take me.”
I kept walking. Looking at her too long was dangerous. “You were right there when I told him I’ve got you.”
She narrowed her eyes, her stare sharp enough to cut. “You can’t tell him what to do. You’re not his boss.”
“No,” I said quietly, “but you’re mine.” Her lips parted, and I raised a brow. “I don’t think either of us wants you navigating downtown in those heels with half a bottle of vodka in your system.”
“You’re not my dad.”
“Thank God for that,” I muttered.
“You’re the worst.”
“So you’ve said.”
She took a step and tripped again, and that was it. I did what I’d done back at the club, scooping her up and tossing her over my shoulder.
“Oh my God,” she shrieked, pounding weakly at my back. “Are you serious? Again?”
“Can’t have my fake girlfriend breaking her ankle mid-tour, can I?”
“I don’t need saving,” she groaned, still kicking.
“Didn’t say you did. I’m just making sure you don’t face-plant on the concrete before I get to see you perform live again.”
I reached the car, juggled my keys out with one hand, and unlocked it. Once I set her down gently on her feet, I opened the door for her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes blazing like she was ready to start another fight. She slid into the passenger seat with a dramatic huff and crossed her arms.
I rounded the hood and climbed in, but I didn’t start the car. I stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, trying to breathe past the storm inside me.
But the words broke loose anyway.
“What the hell are we doing, El?”
She blinked, mascara smudged under her eyes, looking like sin and softness all at once. “What?”
“This.” I gestured between us, trying to keep my voice steady. “You texted me to come save you. You flirt. You kiss me then avoid me. Then, you act like none of it means anything.” My voice cracked on the last words.
She looked away.
I kept going, because now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop. “I’m not mad,” I whispered. “I’m confused. I like you, Ellie. That’s not new information, but I can’t keep getting yanked back and forth. I’m not built like that.”
Silence.
Then, slowly, she reached across the console and laced her fingers through mine. Her touch burned.
