Page 58 of The Comedown

“Because you’re standing too close to me,” she snaps, jerking her head away a few inches. “Which probably doesn’t look good either. You should—”

“I ain’t fucking moving. I’ll be glued to your side ’til we leave this fucking place,” I promise her, removing my hand from her back, but staying right the fuck where I am, standing half over her so anyone that bothers looking her way will get an eyeful of me, too.

“Why Collette?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you get your name tattooed down your spine?”

“It’s a reminder,” she says without looking up from the menu in her hold. “The only person I can depend on having my back…is me.”

Damn. That’s depressing. And familiar as all fuck.

“What about Bodee? Does he have your back?”

Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t bother answering, which is pretty fucking telling if you ask me.

“Did he ever?” I ask, only getting more silence.

Swear to fuck I couldn’t hate that guy more.

She returns her attention to the menu, but I pluck it out of her hands, stacking it with mine before dropping them both behind the bar.

“I was reading that.” Her eyes hold so much challenge all I can do is stare back, wishing I could kiss that smart mouth of hers.

The bartender comes over, keeping me from pressing my luck for what would most likely be my last time. Collette would kill me for pulling something like that publicly.

But privately…

Either way, I’d meet my maker with a smile on my face and the taste of Collette on my tongue ’cause if I’m tempting fate one final time, I’m going all in.

“Lemme get a vodka soda and she’ll have a jalapeño mojito.” I ignore Collette’s scoff, telling him, “We’ll share the papas rellenas and send over two virgin whatever-the-fuck kids drink these days to that table.” I point out Holter and his date. “Put theirs and the table to their right on my tab, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Umm, no. Put them both on my tab.”

I give Collette a long look, then meet the bartender’s eye, giving him a small headshake.

After he leaves to put in our order, Collette says, “Since we’re sharing, I’ll let you pay for my meal, but—”

“That wasn’t our meal. That was just the appetizer.”

She returns my stare, telling me, “You’re such a paradox.”

“The word you’re going for is enigma, Poohbear. I use the thesaurus app more than any other app on my phone. That and the dictionary app.” I wink at her, memorizing the look of her jaw unhinged. It’s okay. Once she gets some ropa vieja in her, she won’t be using any words at all, just moans of appreciation.

Jesus fuck, my cock’s ’bout to punch a hole through my jeans.

“And yet you didn’t know what indisposed meant.”

“You didn’t know what slippy meant.”

“Slippy’s not a word!”

“That’s it. I’m taking you to Pittsburgh, over to the Souside so we can get some eats, then Imma put your ass in a buggy, and buy us some chipped ham for hoagies. I’ll get you a pop from Sheetz.”

She puts a hand up, stopping me in my tracks. I could go all night.