As we make it to a vacant table, I perch on the edge of the chair as JJ reluctantly releases my arm. My lips twitch, offering him a tight smile as I kick off my shoes beneath the table and take a seat.
“I didn’t think the bouncer was going to let me in,” I admit, brushing my fingers through the ends of my hair.
JJ’s brows furrow with suspicion as he leans on his elbows. “Why? Wait… god. Please don’t tell me you’re still in school or something.”
I tilt my head and push down my laugh. “No, because I look like an extra fromThe Walking Deadwith this broken heel.”
“So… you’re out of school?”
“I left sixth form three years ago.”
JJ sinks back into his chair with relief. “Not going to lie, I don’t think he was looking at your wobbly foot.”
My eyes narrow on his, but he’s beaming back at me. Even though they’re blue like the ocean, they should look soft and inviting, but all I can see is a mischievous glint behind them.
“I don’t know if that was an insult or a compliment,” I say cautiously.
JJ rests his forearms on the table. My gaze floats down to a couple of silver rings on his long fingers. The cuff of his jacket rides up his wrist, flashing a splash of ink I didn’t notice before.
When I meet his gaze again, he’s grinning at me playfully. “It’s a compliment, Ivy.”
“Unnecessary, but thanks.” I blink away my blush.
“What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll get my own drink.”
“Why?”
“Because this is not a date.”
JJ chews on the inside of his lip and has the audacity to smirk at me.
“Is it not?” he drawls.
I lean back in my chair and comfortably fold my arms across my chest. “No. It is simply two people having a drink together. Both of our nights have ended tragically, and they need fixing with some alcohol and adequate company.”
His brows shoot towards his hairline. “Adequate company?”
“Yours, not mine. Obviously.”
JJ releases a soft chuckle, and I wish he didn’t because the sound is far too alluring for my liking.
“So it’s a date if I buy you a drink?”
“Even if you buy me a drink,” I clarify. “But you should know I am more than capable of buying my own drinks.”
He shrugs simply. “I wasn’t expecting you to pay for them when I asked you to join me.”
Suddenly, I’m heating up, like I’m under a spotlight and he can see every inch of me. A thought rushes through my mind—this is so unlike me. I’ve never been the kind of person who can confidently talk to boys; I’ve always cowered away in fear of not being good enough.
But maybe I’ve officially crossed intoI don’t give a fuck anymoreterritory.
What else do I have to lose?
I shake off this warmth and remind myself we’ll go our separate ways tonight, and I’ll never have to see him again.
He’s a metaphorical shoulder to cry on.
