Hard Pass by Sara Ney Page 0,26

overly affectionate.”

I clearly am not.

Miranda rambles on. “I’m a hugger. I think it’s going to be an issue when I run my own business—I don’t need anyone reporting me to HR because I grabbed them for a bear hug.” She giggles into her glass. “I think it’s because my parents weren’t really huggers. I don’t remember them even touching each other very often. Weird, right?”

Jesus, are we suddenly having a therapy session?

I shift on my heels, uneasy. “Right.”

“You could probably use a hug.”

Uh. What?

“I’m good, but thanks.” Vigorously, I shake my head.

“Aww, the big teddy bear needs a hug.” She says it in that way only girls can, almost as if she’s cooing to a baby.

Yeah, she’s drunk. “Trust me, I don’t.”

“Come here.” Her arms open and I stare down at her tiny, hot little body. The boobs beneath her blouse. The tight, high-waisted jeans. The tips of her toes peeking out from whatever heels she’s got on.

No. I do not want her to hug me.

I do not want that body pressed against mine.

I do not—

She grabs me before I can stop her. Tits and pelvis and everything else pressed against me, this virtual stranger, the top of her head tucked under my chin.

Her arms are around me and I feel her hands brushing my spine, then along my latissimus dorsi, as if she’s feeling me up, but not brave enough to go all in. ’Cause that would be strange, right?

I’m ramrod straight, fighting so fucking hard not to sniff her hair but failing; it smells like hairspray and shampoo—the fruity kind, not the fussy kind, and as I inhale it, my body relaxes.

“You can put your arms around me, you know,” she suggests, settling in.

She is only hugging you because she is drunk, Noah.

I have to keep reminding myself, but it’s hard. I want to believe this is chemistry, but since I’m not a damn idiot, I know better. Miranda is drunkish and it’s making her act loopy, and that’s fine.

I guess.

“I don’t want to wrap my arms around you. I don’t even know you.”

“Just do it. Stop being so grouchy.”

Grouchy? No one has ever called me that.

Slowly, I raise my arms. My hands slide around Miranda’s small waist. Brushing the silky fabric of her shirt, I’m not quite sure where to put them. I’ve touched women before, but usually only during sex, and that’s mechanical with no feeling involved.

This? This is making my heart palpitate, and if it was before a game, I’d have my vitals checked by the team physician.

Miranda settles into my body deeper, burrowing almost. I’m not sure she’s aware she’s even doing it, or if she doesn’t care, or if I’m just that cozy as a cuddle buddy.

Her soft voice manages to reach my ears. “You feel good.”

And with that, I pull away, the cold air rushing between our bodies like a bucket of ice water I need to break this spell of stupidity.

“There. Don’t you feel better?”

No, I don’t feel better; this just made everything a helluva lot worse.

“You want anything else to drink?” I ask. “Because I think I’m going to bounce.”

“Leave? We just got here.” A hand touches my forearm and I can’t not look down at it resting there, singeing my skin. “Don’t leave me to the wolves—I’ll never survive.”

Then stop touching me and stop flirting with me and stop making me feel…

…like I’d stand a chance if I gave enough fucks to try.

You can’t live like a monk for the rest of your life, dipshit. You want kids and a family—how do you suppose you’re going to do that if you don’t take a chance?

Easy—by letting the opportunity to flirt pass me by.

“You haven’t even told me your name.”

That’s right. She has no idea who I am. Has no idea that the $20 bill in her purse and the $25,000 in her bank account came from me.

Me. Not goddamn Buzz Wallace.

“You don’t have to know my name.”

Her mouth opens, shocked. Hurt? Speechless. “Oh.”

Oh.

That one little word makes me feel like the world’s biggest…douche. A bigger douche than I’ve seen any of my friends be.

Her shoulders sag, the entire mood spoiled. Miranda inhales a breath before squaring herself upright, back straight. Fake smile pasted on her face.

“Wow. Okay.” Her lips are still glossy, shining beneath the lights, and if rejection had a look, her face would be on the poster. “Get home safe, I guess.”

I nod.

Shoulder my way through the crowd, leaving the way I came.

I’ll tell Buzz to settle