I whip the hood back and look at him. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I told you I was taking a cab.”
“Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous, Annie.”
“How the hell am I being ridiculous?—”
“I brought you here, so I’m fuckin’ taking you home?—”
“Just give me the info?—”
“No.”
“Nico—”
“What thehellis your problem?”
Problem, problem, problem. “Hello? You said it—I’m a miserable?—”
“Enough about that,” he roars. “Do you need another fuckin’ hug?”
I stand and rip his hoodie off. “I don’t wantanythingfrom you,” I snarl, throwing the bundle into his lap.
He looks down at the hoodie as if it were a spear I’ve just launched into his stomach. “Why won’t you let me drive you home?”
“I don’t want to make you leave,” I finally shout, pacing back and forth across the pavement. “I don’t want to be the crazy one you need to bring home. I don’t want to ‘cause fuckin’ problems for everyone around me.’ I want you to stay here and have a good time with your fucking friends and fucking Claire!”
Nico stands, too. “I think your brand of crazy is mine, honey, ‘cause I’d rather solve all your fuckin’ problems than spend any amount of time with anyone else, including fuckin’ Claire.” He catches up to where I’m standing on the pavement, jams his hoodie back over my head, and marches me towards the car.
I’ve lost the use of my arms, so I try to push back using only my feet. “Nico!”
“Get in thefuckin’ car, Annie,” he roars for the eighth or ninth time in three days.
“Hey!” Mark suddenly yells from the door of the restaurant. “Is everything okay?”
“Fuck off, Mark!” the two of us shout.
Nico presses me against the side of the car, his hand solid at the center of my chest so he can use the other hand to unlock the car and wrench open the passenger door.
I push forward, but his hand holds me firm. A second later, his body follows, pressing me into place. I struggle, twisting against him—until I don’t.
Until I freeze.
Suddenly, I’m aware of everything. The solid weight of him. His thigh wedged between mine. My breasts flush against his chest. My lips grazing the heat of his neck.
My fight dissolves. In fact, I think I melt.
He finally gets the door open, but neither of us moves. He looks down. At us.
His breathing, already ragged from our struggle, turns uneven. I watch the pulse in his neck hammer.
He tilts his head down. Instinctively, mine lifts.
Neither of us blinks.
His breath ghosts over my lips, warm and shallow. The soft, pretty pink of his mouth is right there, close enough to taste.
