“Whoa.” He lifts his hands, the booze sloshing in the glass, brows shooting up to his hairline. “I thought that was an established fact.”
“It’s not… jeez, Merc. It’s not a fact.” I walk over to the window, then turn back around. “And that’s not why Syd and I fought.”
“So you did fight. I knew it. You had that constipated expression on your face you always get when you’re mad.”
“What? I don’t do that.”
“Sure you do. Like this.” He crosses his eyes and frowns, mouth pursed. “Exactly like this.”
Oh my God. I clap a hand over my mouth, snickering madly, momentarily distracted from thoughts of Sydney and Jarett. “You look like a deranged alien rabbit.”
And then I smell Jarett on my hand, even though I washed it before leaving the frat house, and my whole body clenches so hard and deep with desire that I gasp.
“Gi
gi?” Merc gets to his feet, his frown real this time. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Hand still over my mouth, I return to the sofa and sit back down. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? You can tell me.” He sits down beside me. “Maybe I should pour you a drink, too.”
“Maybe you should.”
I can’t talk to my brother about this. He’ll probably go shoot Jarett and then lock me up in my room and stand guard outside. Merc is pretty protective, even if he’s a year younger than me.
Okay, I doubt he’d shoot Jarett. Punch him in the face, maybe. Hard.
“Tell me what happened.” He hands me a fresh glass with the radioactive booze he’s been drinking. I think it’s whiskey. Cheap whiskey. “Do I need to go kick ass?”
See?
“Nah, I’m good.” If I couldn’t still taste Jarett’s lips, hear his ragged breathing, feel that powerful body convulse with pleasure against me… “Pinky swear.”
God, my own body is strung tight like a violin string. Something has to give, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight.
“Did Sydney do something to upset you again?”
“No… yes. She’s been acting weird.” The whiskey tastes better the more I drink—or maybe it burned off my taste buds. “Reckless.”
“Why?”
“No idea. She won’t tell me. She gets herself into danger, and then Jarett saved her ass—”
“Wait, what? Rewind.”
I put down the glass, lick whiskey off my lips. “He fought with two thugs, and she was sitting on her ass in the wet grass, and he had this frigging huge bruise on his face, and blood, and I just…” I wave the glass, and suddenly it’s all too funny. “I just grabbed Syd and dragged her inside, leaving him there.”
Merc’s brows rise. “Seriously. And then?”
“Then he came in, and I…” I take another sip. Hey, my glass is empty. I shake it, in case it magically refills itself. “I took his hand, and…”
“And?” Merc removes the glass from my hand. “Focus, Gigi. What the hell happened?”
“Nothing happened.” I shrug, and pout. “That’s it! Can I have some more battery acid, please?”
“No. How can you be wasted with just this?” He gives my glass a disgusted look. “What the fuck did you drink at this party you went to?”
“Um. Some shots?”