I glanced at her through the side of my eyes, feeling my smirk widening. Her coy, exaggerated smile beaming back at me. I wouldn’t put it past the crazy bitch to have internal voices, that’s for sure.
I shook my head as I continued towards the street, “Ok then fine, if you overdid it last week, we can have a chill one this time. I’m thinking drinks. You can buy.”
My voice quickly snapped towards her, “I don’t drink with people I don’t trust.”
Her mouth opened in a playful, shocked expression, “Ouch! That almost hurt.” I smirked, “Come on, one drink and I’ll leave you alone. Scouts honour.” I paused; shoulders stiff. That same steady confidence spilling from her, like she already knew I’d cave.
“You were never a scout.”
“And I’ve never been that honourable either, but what can you do?” Holding out her hands on either side of her. She continued, “Anyway, it’s not like you can’t afford it, moneybags. Where’d you get the cash from? Rob a bank?”
My hesitation to answer instantly gave me away, “Don’t worry about it.”
She chuckled at my side, “I’m not worried. Just nosey. Been doing something dodgy?”
Another deep breath leaving me, she wasn’t going to drop it. “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always so painfully fucking vague?”
I rolled my eyes; she didn’t need to know about that part of my life.
One drink. That’s what she said, and that’s what I told myself when she walked beside me. Both of us were silent as I turned off the main strip, ducking down the side alley where the neon buzz of a hole-in-the-wall bar flickered like a faulty pulse.
I turned to her, gripping the door handle, “One drink,” my voice low and assertive. I already knew this was a bad idea as she walked past me with the cocky little smile. No one inside was worth noticing—dim booths. A sketchy-looking bartender perched on a stool, looking half dead. Misfit pushed through the crowd ahead of me, like she owned the place. I remained on edge with her, but she seemed to move differently tonight. More relaxed and assured in my presence. She slung herself against the counter, fingers drumming out a rhythm, eyes scanning the bottles. The bartender stepped closer to her.
“Vodka,” Misfit ordered, not even looking at him. He hesitated for a beat, then grabbed the bottle off the back shelf. Turning to place it down, Misfit reached out and plucked it clean from his grip, like it had always belonged to her. No thanks, no blink. She turned on her heel, bottle dangling loosely in her hand.
“One drink,” her tone now mocking. I sighed, pulling out notes from my pocket. The bartender raised a brow at me, unimpressed.
“You with her?”
I nodded once, “Unfortunately. So, pour me something strong. I’m gonna fucking need it.”
Sliding the notes across the counter, I looked to her over my shoulder, now situated in a darkened booth on the back wall. Her head tilted, already taking a swig like it was water, I couldn’t help the way my lips curled into a crooked smile.
I approached the table, placing my glass down, “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Slight annoyance beneath it.
“I do, yeah.” She smiled towards me before touching her lips with the bottle.
Well, that one drink turned into many. Seemed to be the only way I was going to get through this without either of us trying to kill each other. Misfit had the bottle perched on the table, one knee up, balancing her chin on it as she watched me with that same damn look. Half-smirk, the rest a loose threat and curiosity.
She took another pull from the bottle and licked her bottom lip, slowly.
She started, her voice honeyed with trouble, “Come on then, where’d you get it?”
My brow furrowed in confusion, “What?”
She quickly countered, “The money. You’re clearly doing something dodgy.”
I leaned back, arm stretched over the booth, eyes scanning the bar. “Just drop it.”
That only made her lean in closer. “Why? What’s the problem?” She paused, swirling the vodka in the bottle absently. “Got something to hide, Screech?” I stiffened before I could stop myself. I clenched my hand around my glass.
“It’s none of your business, that’s why.” If she found out just a small fraction of my life, she would think I’m weak—a perfect target for her to get her jollies from. I wasn’t about to let that happen.
A grin tugged at the edge of her lips, “It is when you’re acting all shifty.” My eyes fixed on hers as she continued. “That apartment too. Not your actual place, is it? Who’s place is that? And why do you have a key?”
My jaw tensed at her interrogation, “I said, drop it.” Lowering my voice as frustration started to build within me.
