right? If you want me to hook you up with one of my boys I will.” He raises his eyebrow at me.
I sigh inwardly. “Cool.”
He reaches over and touches my nose with his index finger disapprovingly. “I need more enthusiasm from you, wing-woman.”
“Awesome, Kent!” I cheer. I raise my hand. He claps my palm hard. “I can’t wait to wake up with a hangover and no morals! Hear, hear to the couch!” I skip away from him, ignoring his laughter.
Sure enough there’s a shot on the counter in the kitchen. The music thumps under my feet and I wonder if the neighbors are going to call the police. I stare at the shot for a long time, contemplating its place in my life. Should I, or shouldn’t I? Out on my ass, or take the shot? End up like my dad, or stay like myself?
“Was it hard to find an apartment?” Kent asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he spies my hesitation. “I can find a roommate who can roll with me. Like that,” he adds, snapping his fingers.
I grumble mean words under my breath so he can’t hear me over the music and take the shot.
Making an unfeminine noise, I slam the shot down. “Happy?” I growl.
“No. Pour another. I want less of an attitude. I’m getting you shitfaced tonight. And every night after. I need you to be able to keep up.”
“I miss James,” I mumble, taking the bottle. I pour Kent and myself another and then stand back as he enters the kitchen.
“Let’s cheer. Your speech…” he pauses, hand in the air with his shot to his lips.
I put on a brave face. “Here’s to being the best damn wing-woman I can be.”
He grins at me. His smile is crooked and his eyes are gleaming sinfully. He looks bad and dark and I can’t help noticing how great his biceps appear. The black of his shirt reminds me how dark his eyes actually are.
“Atta girl, Raina.”
We clink our glasses together and throw them back, while I struggle to keep the animation out of my disgust. By the proud grin he gives me, I think I achieve it.
He licks his lips free of whiskey and his dark eyes regard me seriously, dropping his grin. “Thank you for being nice to James. Most people aren’t like that.”
I look down at my black pumps. “That’s unfortunate. Why can’t people be more accepting?”
He nods slowly. “Believe me. It pisses me off too. He’s a great guy. I’ve known him since fourth grade. When I moved here for college he came with me. The college kids in town treat him like shit. But I’m not so selfless to let him go home. Out of everyone in my life, James has always had my back and me, his. Don’t hurt him, okay?”
“How would I hurt him?”
“Because James never talks to anyone. I’m the only person he communicates with. First night here he’s apologizing to you, eating pizza, and talking shit about me. He must like you. He’s been hurt enough in his life by people. I don’t need you adding to it.”
“What makes you think I don’t like him back?”
“I’m operating from past experiences.” He glares at me. “Don’t look at me like that. I love James, but I’m honest with myself enough to admit girls aren’t begging him for the couch. Do I agree? Hell no. If they were smart they’d want him, not me. But women aren’t smart. They’re all cheating, ungrateful whores. They deserve me and the couch!” he growls.
I step back in shock. “Kent…”
He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down as he paces the kitchen. When he looks at me again he at least has the decency to be ashamed. “Just don’t hurt him. Don’t smile at him, or tease him, or do that cute thing you do when you frown. Right there,” he accuses. “Don’t do that shit.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“I find that oddly not shocking.”
“You’re kind of a smart ass. You know what I do to smart-ass mouths?” He moves toward me.
I take a step back, my eyes shooting to his lips. “What?”
He mirrors my step, walking toward me until I’m backed up against the counter. “I punish them.”
“How do you do that?” I honestly want to know, trying to ease the sudden tension in the room. It’s buzzing between us, making me unable to form thoughts that do not surround his lips punishing