"The night is almost over and you're drunk."
"Buzzed," she corrected, holding up a finger that wavered slightly. "There's a difference."
I tried again for the microphone. This time she held it out of reach, turning away from me with all the grace of a newborn.
"Come on, Seven. Live a little. Loosen up that brooding, mysterious vibe you've got going on." She spun around and nearly lost her balance. I caught her elbow. "See? You're helpful. You're like my own personal bodyguard slash karaoke enabler."
"We're leaving."
"We just got here!"
"We've been here for almost an hour and you've had four drinks tonight."
She blinked at me like I'd said something in another language. "Has it been that long? Time flies when you're having fun. Are you having fun?" She looked down at the microphone in her hand like she'd forgotten she was holding it. "Oh. Right. I was singing."
I took advantage of her distraction and plucked the microphone from her fingers.
"Okay, okay," she murmured, holding up her hands in surrender. "I'm coming. But only because you're being very bossy and commanding and"—she paused, studying me—"honestly kind of hot when you do that."
I ignored the way that comment made my knees weak for a fraction of a second and grabbed her hand instead. "Come on."
She let me lead her toward the door, though her pace was definitelyslower than when we'd arrived. Halfway down the hallway, she stumbled and I caught her, pulling her against my side.
"I'm okay," she insisted, even as she leaned heavily into me. "Just tired. Your fault for being so... comfortable."
"My fault?"
"Yeah. You're like a human pillow. A very large, very intimidating human pillow, but still."
We tumbled out into the street. The neon signs still blazed in pink and blue, though the crowds had thinned slightly. I guided her toward the crosswalk, her body heavy against mine, her head lolling against my shoulder.
The light turned green and we stepped into the intersection. People rushed to cross, but Kimmy barely seemed to notice. She was focused entirely on staying upright, one arm wrapped around my waist for balance.
We stepped onto the sidewalk and she halted to a stop.
"You okay?" I asked, spinning her to face me.
She lifted her head. The light washed over her face—electric pink and vibrant blue—painting her in colors that made her look almost ethereal. Her eyes were soft and unfocused, but there was something deliberate in the way she looked up at me, something hopeful.
"That was fun, wasn't it?" she murmured, words blending together.
"Sure," I agreed.
"Let's do it again." She grinned, flailing.
I grabbed her by her waist, steadied her, let her press up to me, let her hand fumble with the fabric of my bandana. She didn't try to pull it off. She just moved the fabric aside enough to expose a small part of my jaw.
My heart thundered.
I should have stopped her but I was too stunned and too tempted. Her lips found my chin, pressing a kiss there with a clarity that cut through the alcohol and the danger and every reason why this was a terrible idea.
"Kimmy," I whispered, my throat closing up.
"Mmm…" She didn't move. She just stood there.
The sensation of her mouth on my skin was tender and devastating all at once and I felt it like a punch to the chest. The moment itself felt almost sacred like I was someone worth saving.
"Kimmy," I said again, cradling the back of her head. "We better get going."
