“Nope.”
I turned on my heels and started pushing through the crowd toward the exit with one arm locked firmly around the backs of her thighs. She squirmed against my shoulder, but it was half-hearted at best, more performance than actual resistance.
“This is kidnapping,” she announced loudly.
“This is saving your ass.”
“My ass was doing fine.”
“Your ass was about to end up on the internet.”
The crowd parted as I shouldered through, not caring about the laughs, the confused looks, or the dirty glances from guys. My only focus was getting her out of there before she did something stupid.
“You’re not the boss of me,” Harlow muttered against my back.
“Never said I was.”
“You’re acting like you’re the boss of me.”
“I’m acting like someone who doesn’t want to watch you make a decision you’ll regret.”
“Maybe I wanted to make bad decisions.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Maybe I’m tired of being the good girl who does everything right.”
I kept walking, pushing through the kitchen, past the front door, and out onto the lawn, where the air was cool, and the music was muffled.
I didn’t put her down until we reached my car, parked halfway down the block under a broken streetlight. Only then did I ease her off my shoulder and set her on her feet.
She swayed immediately, and I grabbed her arms to steady her.
“You…” She jabbed a finger at my chest, eyes unfocused. “...are so annoying.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
“I was having fun.”
“You were putting on a show for drunk assholes who were filming you.”
“So?” She threw her arms wide, nearly losing her balance. “Maybe I wanted to be filmed. Maybe I wanted someone to look at me like I’m worth looking at.”
“Harlow…”
“You don’t get to do this.” She shoved at me, and I let her push me back even though there was barely any force behind it. “You don’t get to ignore me for weeks and then show up here and kiss me like…” She pointed back at the house. “Like that and then push me away again. You don’t get to swoop in like some kind of…of…” She struggled for the word. “...knight in shining whatever.”
“Armor,” I supplied.
“That.” She pointed at me triumphantly, then frowned. “Wait, what?”
“Knight in shining armor. That’s the expression.”
“I know what the expression is.” She crossed her arms, which made her sway. I reached out to steady her again, and she glared at my hand like it had personally offended her. “Stop touching me.”
“Stop almost falling over.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not.”
