“Dunno.” He grins wildly. “I guess we’ll see how this date goes.”
My eyes roll. “We said it’s not a date.”
“Are you always this argumentative?”
My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip as heat begins to catch the back of my neck and spread across my chest at an alarming rate. “Sometimes.”
“I like a challenge,” he says with a subtle wink before downing the last drops of his drink. “As much as I like your honesty, princess.”
My eyes narrow at him.
“You pick up a lot of girls with that nickname?”
“No, but is it working?”
I release a long sigh and shake my head. “It’s a cute attempt at being charming.”
“I’m flattered you think I’m charming.”
“Yeah, well… it’s not working.”
JJ leans in again, a little too close this time. The playfulness in his expression bleeds into the wildfire in his eyes, and suddenly I realise I might be partaking in flirting. Even though I have no clue what I’m doing.
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Well, I beg to differ because your heart is pounding like an alarm.”
I jerk backwards from his close proximity. My cheeks begin to heat, despite trying to tell my body not to embarrass me now, and prove him completely right.
He laughs again and drags one of his hands over the back of his buzz cut.
“No, it’s not,” I respond lamely.
“Just stating facts.”
I almost cut a hole in my cheek from the pressure of my teeth. My eyes narrow, and suddenly I’m desperate for another sambuca. The waitress walks by, and I call her over, ordering for myself.
“Maybe now I understand why your friends got drunk.” I flash him a sarcastic smile. “Putting up with your company is way worse when you’re sober.”
JJ’s neck extends backwards, and he exhales a long, loud laugh that has people glancing over to our table. I stare back at him blankly as he recovers and wipes at the fake tears on his cheeks.
He beams. “That was unexpected.”
“Just stating facts,” I shoot back.
We stare at each other for a hot minute, neither of us uttering a word. His lips twitch like he wants to continue winding me up, but he doesn’t. Probably because I look like I’m seconds from having a mental breakdown.
JJ’s mouth opens, and I brace myself. “Tell me what you do,” he says casually.
“What?”
“What do you do?”
“You’re asking me what I do?”
“Yes.” He flicks his eyes from left to right. “That’s how conversations tend to go. I ask a question and you answer, and maybe if you’re really nice, you might ask me a question too. Were you dropped as a child?”
