“Let him go,” Ethan says to Rich. “Dude needs sometime alone with his feelings.”
I shoot Ethan a dirty look. He’s turning into a bigger jackass than Rich.
“Alright, alright,” Rich says. “I’ll be back in a few weeks for another meeting.” He points a stern finger at me. “And you better come out when I’m here.”
I stand again, grateful to get out of here, and not sure why I came in the first place. “We’ll do this for real when you’re back in town.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head toward the hallway that leads to the back entrance. When I round the corner, someone small barrels into me. I catch her by the hips, steadying her.
The faint smell of pear and citrus runs an electric shock through me.
I know that smell, know who it belongs to before my brain can process.
“You!” Brie says, looking furiously up at me.
Her hands press against my chest. For a moment I think she’ll shove me, push me against the wall. Make me atone for my sins.
But she doesn’t.
Before I can say something stupid, I let go of her hips and step back, breaking all contact. “I was just leaving.”
Her jaw is set. “I don’t have to talk to you.” The anger in her voice is offset by the slight slur.
How many shots did she have?
“No, you don’t,” I agree.
She looks so much like she used to. Same full lips and high cheekbones. But her wavy brown hair is shorter, just brushing her shoulders. And her big brown eyes are different too. Furtive innocence replaced with fireand vinegar.
She looks like she wants a fight, and I’d happily be her punching bag.
Come at me, I silently dare.
As if hearing my thoughts, her chin tilts up, eyes blazing threateningly. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions either.”
For the first time all day, I want to laugh. “I didn’t ask any.”But I’ve got plenty.
“Because we’re not in school,” she continues, emphasizing each word with a sharp pointer finger to my sternum.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “But in school you’ll be polite and professional,” I echo her words from the parking lot.
My tone isn’t meant to come out teasing, but I know it does when she makes the same face from yesterday afternoon, baring her teeth and narrowing her eyes.
It’s cute.
“We’re not in school now,” she repeats.
She takes another minuscule step toward me, and my blood pressure rises. I want to tell her to stay back, that she’s playing a dangerous game.
“So I don’t have to be either of those things,” she adds as she takes another step.
My body moves of its own accord, spinning us around, crowding her in the hallway, taunting her with our size difference.
“Fuck polite and professional,” I say before I can choke back the words. “Those standards shouldn’t apply to you.”
Her mouth falls open as she stares up at me, like she’s doing complicated math. Her chest rises and falls in a heavy rhythm. The pink in her cheeks is slight, probably from the drinks she’s had.
But I want to turn her cheeks crimson.
