jaw flexing with a grin he’s trying to bury.
Then he’s nodding.
Swallows—
“You don’t drink in public.”
He squints. “Since when?”
“Since always.”
He turns to me, studying my face,
tapping his card against the bar.
“You drank with me on the roof.
“And the Clover,” he points out.
“And the gala,” he adds.
I shrug. “'Cause you were there."
Andrew’s eyes lift.
Then his brow.
Then his smile.
“So what—you sayin' you only drink when I’m wit’ you?”
He says it wrapped in humor, a joke.
When I don’t meet his eyes,
just tap my nails on the bar,
his smile fades.
“C’mon, be real.
“Only time you drink’s when I’m around?”
My shoulder goes up. “Yeah.
“‘Cause you got me.
“Feels safe.
“With you, I can fall apart and still not fall.
“But you’re goin’ on stage,
“so… soda water and lime it is.”
A short laugh slips out of him.
Then he leans in close,
