Page 31

“Y’know you want to touch. Jus’ squeeze it, and I’ll let y’go.”

“Fuck off! Help!”

He abandons his waistband and slaps his hand over my mouth. “Shhhh. I’m jus’ playin’, baby. ‘Sall fun.” His lips only brush across my cheek, before his body is hefted backward, his grip faltering.

Standing beside me is Simon, brows angled to a pissed-off frown.

Wiping sweaty hands against my jeans, I straighten myself, dumbfounded for a moment, trying to process how someone as small as Simon managed to throw off someone as heavy as Harv.

“Th’fuck? Who th’fuck d’you think …?” Harv lurches again, but one solid punch to his stomach sends him stumbling back onto his ass. Idiot looks like a stuck turtle trying to turn himself over. “Whassa problem? I was jus’ playin’ wi’ her.”

“Are you okay?” Simon’s eyes are warm and sympathetic, as if he’s apologizing for all of the male species at once.

“Yeah. I’m … just a little … tipsy, is all.”

“If you’d like, I can give you a ride home. I haven’t consumed any alcohol tonight, just soda.”

“Y’don’t have to do that, Simon.” I could call a cab, but that would cost money that I didn’t bother to bring and can’t really afford to blow.

“Would you prefer Shay drive you? I’ll understand if you do. I just don’t think you should drive yourself.”

Shay’s not much more sober than I am. And Dale has thrown back a few drinks, so I don’t know if he’s in any better shape. Simon is my best bet, and at least I know him slightly better than some random cab driver.

“You don’t mind driving me?”

“Not at all. Let me grab my coat.” He opens the door for me, and I glance back toward the sounds of hurling, to find Harv bent forward, puking beside the dumpster.

Shaking my head, I head back into the bar and wave to Dale from the door. Head tipped like he’s confused, he waves back, until I point to Simon, and Dale shakes his head, waving me over instead. Even when tipsy himself, the guy looks out for me. Through the crowd, I meet him halfway and catch the slight drunken sway when he stops before me.

“Where’ya goin’?” His brows are stern with concentration. Reminds me of my father when he’d get pissed at me for something.

“Simon’s driving me home.”

Eyes clamped, Dale shakes his head fervently. “Nah, that’s … lemme drive you home.”

Not a chance. The guy has clearly had as much as everyone else. “Thanks Dale, but you should really get a ride yourself. I’m sure Simon would drive you, too.”

He scoffs at that and glances away and back. “I’m fine. I’ll take you home. I’ll take care of you, Nola.” He’s not as drunk or obnoxious as Harv, but he’s starting to make me just as uncomfortable.

“Really, I’m just … just gonna catch a ride with Simon.”

His eye twitches, as he stares down at me, and tips back another sip of beer, lips tight when he swallows it back. “Think that’s a better idea?”

The back of my neck feels like it’s on fire, as I clear my throat and drop my gaze from his. “Yeah. I do.”

“Fine. Get a ride from Simon then,” he says, and walks back toward the table with the others.

Perhaps the strangest encounter I’ve ever had with Dale, though it occurs to me it’s the first time I’ve seen him intoxicated. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, in my own drunken state. He’s always been overprotective of me, after all.

A nudge at my arm draws my attention toward Simon, who tips his head toward the door. With his coat in hand, he leads me out to the parking lot, toward a silver Malibu parked two cars down from my Jeep.

Practically leaping ahead of me, he rushes to open my door, and sets a hand on my shoulder, as I slide into his passenger seat. The car has a crisp, lemon scent, and I glance up to see a yellow air freshener dangling from the rearview, along with two air fresheners clipped to the vents.

Guy likes lemons.

He falls into the driver’s seat and fires up the vehicle, turning the heater up. “Feel free to make it warmer, if you’d like. Kind of a chilly night.”

“Simon, thank you for this. I know I don’t talk to you much, but … I’m just … not a real sociable person.”