I jerk back instinctively. “Watch where you’re putting those—,” my shout dies in my throat when I see who it is, “hands.” Aidan is staring down at me with pursed lips and drawn brows, but my eyes are bouncing back and forth from my phone to his face. “How did you get here so fast?”
“What are you talking about?” His tone is clipped, but he’s out of breath. He’s not happy to see me like this, just like I expected.
“I—it didn’t go through. Well, maybe. Did it?”
Aidan frowns. “Jo, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you look like you’ve been drinking…a lot.”
“I have!” I say proudly, though that’s probably not the reaction he was expecting. I correct my tone. “Sorry. I have.”
Aidan’s hand remains on my shoulder as he waves at the bartender to get her attention. He mouths something to her that looks like ‘coming with me.’
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I push him against the chest with a good amount of force, and he stumbles a little. “Tonight’s not the night. You can’t have your way with me when I’m this integrated. No, exonerated. Annihilated?”
“How much have you had?” he asks pointedly.
I squint up at his face as he covers his mouth with his hand and strokes his chin. Is he really that concerned about me? But wait…
My brain cycles through thoughts at double the speed. I can’t keep focus on one idea long enough before the next one comes barreling to the front of my mind. But one thing circles back. “You called me Jo.”
His forehead creases. “What?”
“You always call me Joanna. Never Jo.”
He doesn’t have a response. His body, however, is aiming to move me away from the bar without my consent. I hadn’t realized his hand was on my lower back, but now I feel him pushing me away from the crowd.
“I need water!” I protest. “I can’t go home yet. I’m too drunk.”
“That’s why we’re leaving,” he insists in a tense tone.
I don’t know how to act with him like this. I’d almost rather him be outright mad, at least I’d know what to say. But the way he protectively guides me out of the bar has me speechless. Even with my inhibitions clouded by alcohol, I can clearly feel the change in our dynamic.
We make it outside and I take a deep breath of fresh air. Inside, I was sticky and hot, but the crisp night air on my skin feels heavenly.
“Can you just sit down for a second?” he asks gently. “I need to think.”
I do as he says. He looks so fragile, I don’t want to do anything to further disappoint him.
He paces back and forth behind me as I plant my butt on the curb and tuck my knees to my chest.
“Why were you drinking alone?”
I can’t tell him the real reason. I can’t tell anyone, because that would mean admitting how lonely I feel.
So instead, I taunt him. “Am I not allowed?”
Aidan peers down at me. I’m still refusing to give an inch when it comes to confiding in him, and he knows it. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares into the distance toward the blinking sign of Kiki’s Cafe a block away.
I shift and cross my arms. I can’t stand the awkward silence between us. My clothes suddenly feel too tight. I pull at my collar, trying to get a little more air into my lungs.
He pulls out his phone, and his face pales in the blue tinted light. “You called me?”
My cheeks burn. I shouldn’t have done this—I never should have come here and drank all alone. Aidan shouldn’t have found me like this. Now I’ve ruined everything. There’s nothing casual about having to be the designated driver for your drunk paramour. I probably disgust him; he’s never going to want to touch me again.
In the midst of my silent freak out, he says, “I didn’t hear my phone.”
He sounds hurt. His chin dips to his chest and his shoulders slump guiltily. “I was in the back, working on cleaning the office.”
He…what?
