“No.”
Nick throws up his hands. “Cassie, what the hell is going on here? Who is this guy?”
“He’s … my ex.” The words still feel wrong.
“Really? He’s not acting very ex.” Nick squares off with Ethan. They’re about the same height and build. In a fight, you’d expect them to be evenly matched, but to me, there’s absolutely no competition.
And that’s the problem.
Ethan leans in. “Nick, is it?” He makes his name sound like it was something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “You were pawing Cassie like a creeper. Learn to take no for a fucking answer.”
Nick draws up to his full height. “Do you go around stalking all your ex-girlfriends, or just this one?”
“You were groping her in the goddamn open. What the hell is your problem, man?”
“What’s your problem? Can’t handle that she’s moved on with someone else?”
I sigh. All I wanted to do tonight was get drunk and forget about my stupid emotions. Now I’m stuck in the middle of some sort of macho pissing match.
I push between the two men still glaring at each other. “I’m leaving, but by all means, you two keep arguing. It looks like you’re enjoying yourselves.”
Nick grabs my hand. “Wait, Cassie. Please. I’ll drive you home.”
Ethan bristles. “The hell you will.”
“No, Nick,” I say, and turn to face him. “You’re drunk, and I’m walking. Also, I don’t think we should see each other anymore. You did paw me like a creeper, and I’m not cool with that.”
Nick frowns but doesn’t let go of my hand. “Can’t we go somewhere to talk about this?”
“No. Now let me go, or I’ll let Ethan hurt you, and you really don’t want that. He’s good at inflicting pain.”
I don’t miss the expression that passes over Ethan’s face.
When Nick drops my hand, I walk to a pile of coats near the front door and dig until I find mine. Then I pull it on and walk out.
As I close the door behind me, the chill hits my cheeks. When I exhale, a cloud of steam pours from my mouth.
I really just want to go to bed and forget about today. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
I’ve barely gotten to the sidewalk before I hear footsteps behind me.
“Cassie, wait.”
I keep walking. After all this time, why does Ethan choose tonight to break our unspoken rule to stay away from each other?
“Hey. Stop.”
He grabs my arm, and I shove my hands in my pockets as he walks around and stands in front of me.
“It’s fucking freezing out here,” he says. “Let me drive you home.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, but I’m about to get into my nice, warm car, and you’re about to freeze your ass off. Come on, I can have you home in twenty minutes. Don’t be stubborn.”
“Hah! You’re calling me stubborn?”
“Well, I would have said ‘fucking stubborn,’ but I’m trying to fucking cut down on my fucking cursing.”
“Funny. Why do you keep swooping in and trying to save me tonight? I don’t need you.”
His mouth twitches. “Oh, I realize that. Over the past year, you’ve made it abundantly clear.”
“Then why are you even bothering?”
He pulls his jacket around him and looks at the ground. “I don’t know. I just figure it’s about time we start being civil to each other. You looked upset tonight, and more than a little drunk. If you stay out here, you could freeze to death. Or worse, run into a drunk asshole like Nick. I’m leaving anyway. Why not let me drive you home?”
I can think of about a thousand reasons, but he’s right. I am freezing my ass off. Still, the thought of spending time with Ethan sends an unwanted thrill of anticipation through me. I inhale the chilly air to dampen the fire.
“Whatever. Take me home.”
He breaks into the most genuine smile I’ve seen on him in a long time.
The fire inside me grows.
Bad idea. Such a bad idea.
His car is like an airtight chamber of Ethan-essence. I’m sober enough to know how much it’s affecting me and drunk enough to not really care. I lean my head back.
Inhale.
Shudder.
Exhale.
Resist watching him drive.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine.”
“You look … hot.”
I turn to him.
He blinks and looks away. “Temperature-wise, not…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
He grips the steering wheel harder. I close my eyes so I can avoid staring at his hands. Or thighs. Or jaw. Or lips.
Dumb tequila. Lowering my defenses. Making me horny.
We drive in silence. It’s uncomfortable. And arousing. We haven’t been this close to each other in ages. In a strangely masochistic way, it satisfies something in me that’s been severely lacking.