“Out.”
He clears his throat. “Obviously.Whereare you going?”
“What’s it to you?” I ask, leaning against the door, crossing my legs, and folding my arms across my chest. My eyes take him in, his dark jeans, his long-sleeved shirt. He looks good. Better than I’ve ever seen him look, actually. Not sure if that’s me imagining things or if he’s blooming when he’s not around me.
That thought pisses me off.
“I haven’t seen you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That wasn’t by design?”
Whit shoves his hands into his pockets and looks…I dunno…lost or something.
“Look, you don’t need to pretend to care, alright? We can just avoid each other like we’ve been doing, yeah? Better to be roommates like you said.”
Whit shifts on his feet but doesn’t say anything.
“I need to go, man. Got to get some.”
I’m halfway out the door when Whit says, “Wait. Can I…” He clears his throat. “Can I join you?”
My eyebrows rise, and I look over my shoulder at him. “For reals?”
He gives a clipped nod, and I shrug. “If you want.”
Damnit, my heart is galloping at a hundred miles an hour. Why does he want to hang out? Does he miss me? If he has, why has he been avoiding me? Shit, men say women are confusing, but they sure haven’t met Whit. He’s a mindfuck.
He sets his messenger bag down and follows me outside to my Jeep.
“This bar we’re going to is probably not your scene,” I tell him as he slides into the passenger seat.
His foot hits a few empty soda cans and a few discarded receipts as he buckles in, but he doesn’t comment on the mess. Just stares at it for a moment before he looks out the windshield.
I don’t say anything, just put the truck in gear and shift it into first.
His eyes move from the passing scenery outside to my hand on the gear shift, and I catch him watching me a few times. He glances away quickly when our eyes meet, but his fingers aren’t moving, probably because he’s sitting on them.
Is he nervous?
We drive for about ten minutes, and after I park, we walk into the crowded bar together.
Mal towers over everyone, so he’s easy to see over the throng of people, and we make our way over to where he and Bree are waiting at the bar. One of his tattooed arms is slung around her shoulder when we approach. Those grey eyes of his narrow when he sees who’s with me.
“Hey, man,” I say, giving him a one-armed hug and then pulling Bree off her feet as I crush her to me and press a kiss to her temple.
“Hey, Whit,” Mal says and then eyes me in confusion.
Yeah, me too, dude. I don’t know what’s going on.
“Hello,” Whit tells him and then shifts closer to me, our arms bumping. I resist the urge to pull him into me. Nah, if he wants anything from me, he needs to initiate it. I’m not going down that road right now.
Mal leans toward me and whispers into my ear, “Why the hell you bring him? Didn’t you want to find someone to bring home tonight?”
I sigh. Yeah, Mal. I did, but what the hell was I supposed to do when he looked so lonely.
And to be honest, I like him here, even though I know nothing’ll come from it.
“Won’t stop me,” I tell Mal even though it feels like a lie.