"Look." I drew in a breath. "I don't know what you're trying to do, but you need to stop."
He opened his mouth, then shut it before shaking his head. "I need to stop what exactly?"
"I just said. I don't know. But cut it out, okay?"
Instead of turning pissy, he grinned. "So, you don't know what I'm doing that's obviously pissing you off, and I certainly don't have a clue, but I definitely need to cut it out?"
I scowled because when he said it like that, he made me sound like a complete idiot. "Okay, fine. You've touched me. Twice now. That's just not cool. Then you told me what I couldn't eat and where I couldn't go like you freaking owned me. Which you definitely don't. And now you're trying to make polite conversation as if we're friends. I don't know you. I've never met you before in my life. We are not friends."
"E.," Mason said, his voice sounding like a dog owner who was commanding his snarling pet to heel. "Leave him alone. He's always protective of women. He's fine."
Oh. I shrank back, guilt seeping into every pore. God, there I went again, automatically assuming every man alive was a bastard. I really needed to cut that out and start giving people the benefit of the doubt. Bad Eva.
"Sorry," I mumbled, ducking my chin and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear because this apologizing business was still so new to me. "I guess if Mason says you're fine, you're fine."
Brows furrowed, Pick opened his mouth to answer me, but Mason snorted out a laugh. "Wow. I cannot believe I just heard those words come out of Eva Mercer's mouth."
I turned to tell him I was at least trying to change, but I got a little distracted by how pale and upset he looked, still slumped against the bar and holding his head. "Are you okay?" I reached for his elbow and drew him to a barstool. "You look like you're going to pass out."
"Yeah, Lowe." Pick grabbed a glass from the back of the bar and filled it with water. "Why don't you sit down?" He slid the water in front of Mason. "Here. Drink something."
Mason sat, but he didn't move to take the glass, so I picked it up and tried to help him . . . to which he sliced me an annoyed glare. "Really?" He snagged the cup from my hand and drank on his own.
Confused by his irritation, I turned to Pick who winced and shook his head. "Bad move, Tink. Don't emasculate the poor guy by helping him drink."
I lifted my hands. "I was just trying to help."
Amusement flittered across his face. He leaned across the bar to talk in a quieter tone. "I know that. And you know that. But Lowe . . . " He shook his head. "He didn't know that."
He was so close I could make out a small chip in the silver paint on his eyebrow ring. I studied it a moment before my attention wandered to other features. But when I got to the deep, chocolate brown of his eyes, I was surprised to learn how much they were studying me in return.
I cleared my throat. "So, yeah." Shifting away so we weren't quite so close anymore, I glanced toward Mason, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts. "Sorry again for being a complete bitch. I just . . . I haven't met a lot of guys who aren't total bastards. So, I'm pretty much leery of everyone."
"Been burned a couple times, huh?" Sympathy ruled his tone.
My throat grew too dry to answer, so I didn't.
"Well, if this is as bitchy as you get, I'm not scared off. I've definitely met worse."
I snorted, meeting his gaze without meaning to. "I seriously doubt that, but thanks for trying to cheer me up."
"No, really." Grinning, he shook his head. "I'm dead serious. This friend of mine puts on a bitch front constantly." He rolled his eyes. "She was raped a lot when she was young, so she's built up this shitty attitude where she degrades everyone around her. It's become like this security shield she hides behind so no one can see the real her and know how broken she feels."
For a moment, I stared at him, unable to move, or breathe, or react. Sensation left all four of my limbs, as a cold blanket of fear covered me. It was the strangest thing, but I could feel the color drain from my face. I gaped at Pick Ryan, wondering how he'd just described my entire life to a perfect T.
Exposed, unable to hide, and feeling like a frightened rabbit with nowhere to run, my heartbeat fluttered in my chest. I swayed away from him.
And I saw the very moment he realized what he'd done. The smile slid from his lips, and his eyes bulged with shock. "No," he whispered as if absolutely horrified.
Oh my God. This was awful. No one had ever guessed this before. And outside of my parents, no one knew. How could he . . . after less than five minutes of talking to me . . . ? No. There was no way possible he could pluck that out of my brain just like that.
But, holy shit. He had. And he knew it.
"Tink?" His fingers skated across the bar, headed in my direction. I tried to jerk my hand away, but he caught my wrist. "No. Don't."