Page 7 of The Plus One

“No.”

“You do know I’m grown.”

“Congratulations.”

“And I can decide when I’ve had enough.”

“Clearly you can’t.”

My mouth fell open. This nigga. I pointed at him. “See, this is why me and you ain’t friends.”

Ace looked around the bar before looking back at me. “I thought it was because we don’t know each other.”

“That too.”

He laughed under his breath. And there it was again. That weird little shift I felt between us. Because why the hell did I care what his laugh sounded like? I blamed the liquor. I was blaming the liquor a lot tonight. Ace glanced at my phone. “So what’s wrong with the roster?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve rejected about twelve niggas since I walked over here.”

“You were watching me?”

His eyes met mine. “It’s my bar. I watch everything.”

For some reason, that answer sent a tiny little shiver down my spine. But I tried to ignore it. “I need a date.”

“For what?”

“A wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“Sierra and Stephen’s.”

I could see his expression change. It was slight but I noticed it. "You ain’t got a date?”

“Nigga. Didn't I just say that.”

“Okay my bad but I thought you were in the wedding."

“I am.”

“So why do you need a date?”

I stared at him. And his dumb ass stared back. Then realization crossed his face. “Kel.”

I grabbed one of my wings. “Don’t say his name.”

Ace sighed. “Kema.”

“And definitely don’t use that tone.”

“What tone?”

“That I’m about to defend my boy tone.”

“I wasn’t about to defend shit.”