“No, really, I’m fine.” When the scotch hit my tongue, it no longer burned. And the more I drank, which I planned to do, the less I would taste it.
I hoped to hell that meant the less I would think about her too.
“If you’re not going to have any, I’m going to clean up the rest of this and pack it into the fridge.” Jordan got up and collected some of the boxes.
“I’ll help.” Maya picked up what Jordan hadn’t, and the two of them disappeared into the kitchen.
Once their backs were facing us, Emily’s gaze slid over to me. She rubbed her lips together, her body staying folded. The only thing moving was her hand, bringing the wine to her mouth. “I didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”
“I didn’t either. But Ben’s at his grandparents’, and when I called Jordan, he told me to come over.” I swirled the scotch inside the tumbler. “My plan was to drag him out with me.”
“Didn’t you think Maya would be here?”
“That wouldn’t stop me from trying to convince him.”
She smiled but didn’t show any teeth. “Of course. The asshole type.” She winked.
God, why was she so fucking hot?
“How well do you know Mike?”
My brows rose, staying high as I replied, “Wilson?”
She nodded.
I huffed out the air in my mouth. “Well enough. Why?”
“Jordan and Maya are Team Mike. I’d like to know what you think since you know both of us.”
For some reason, sitting here was nagging the shit out of me. I was too still. Too confined. That was one of my favorite parts about my old job—I was always moving on that field. “Didn’t you tell me you don’t want to date?”
She shrugged. “I also told you I want to date. I’ve just stopped putting myself out there, and I let things happen on their own. Clearly, I’m a bunch of mixed signals.”
When I looked up her Instagram account last night, what I saw wasn’t a mixed signal at all. There wasn’t a dude in any of her photos. Emily came across very single. But she wasn’t one of those girls who posted half-naked shots of herself or only selfies. What she shared instead was a collage of her life. Her friends, places she went, things she found beautiful. One of my favorites was a picture of her and Maya at the Bears game, the first night she’d seen me, which I knew because I cross-referenced the date. Right by the glass, in Bettie’s seats, and wearing the same T-shirt she was in now.
But now I knew what was underneath that cotton.
I knew the scent of her skin.
I knew just how she tasted.
“So are you going to give me your opinion?” She stretched her legs across the couch in my direction, but she wasn’t tall enough to reach me. Still, what that did was send me the faintest hint of her perfume.
Coffee and vanilla.
I wasn’t going to survive this fucking night.
There was suddenly nothing left in my glass, and I immediately took care of that. “Why does it matter what I think? Why don’t you just take my brother’s word?”
“Because you know me better than he does.”
More air came through my lips, and just as I was about to respond—words I hadn’t prepared at all—Maya and Jordan returned to the living room. Maya was holding a bottle of tequila, and my brother was carrying four small glasses.
“Shots?” Maya inquired.
“Oh, it’s that kinda night?” Emily laughed.
Maya sat next to her best friend and rubbed their shoulders together. “Why not. We don’t have anywhere to be.”
