Amara lifted a brow. “I must not.”

“It smells dirty,” Gen blubbered. “And that’s thepoint.Like how perfume smells nice.”

“Perfume does smell nice,” Amara agreed.

“Even nicer if you’ve never smelled it your whole life,” Gen said.

Cobra shoved his hands into his pockets, questions swirling inside him. Gen tumbled shoulder first into Amara. “He doesn’t like me,” Gen stage whispered, looking over at Cobra.

He bit back his smile. This was gonna be good.

“Oh, come on. Yes, he does. He’s just…quiet.” Amara sent him a smile over the top of Red’s head.

“He doesn’t like me because I farted on him,” Red whispered loudly.

Amara’s eyes widened, and he laughed into his fist.

“It’s okay, I don’t like him either,” Red said, turning her back to him. “Actually, that’s a lie, I totally like him.”

Cobra worked his jaw back and forth. He didn’t like how much it warmed him to hear those words. She didn’t know shit about him,andshe was drunk. Wanting those words to be true revealed a crack in his armor. One he needed to seal up immediately.

But maybe he could seal it up tomorrow.

“I’ll take her home,” Cobra blurted.

“No, it’s okay,” Amara said. “We’ll take her. I’m pretty sure Travis is good to drive.”

“But I’m definitely good to drive,” Cobra said. “Besides, I saw Travis taking shots. You guys need a ride share, too.”

Amara gnawed at the inside of her lip, a low sigh escaping her. “You might be right.”

Cobra clenched his jaw, looking back at the door as it clanged shut. A few guys strutted outside and lit up cigarettes, eyeing Amara and Gen in a way that Cobra recognized too well. He straightened his back, meeting their stares so they got the picture.

These girls were off limits.

Cobra went over to Red, grabbed her by the shoulder so she’d look at him. She blinked sleepily. In the golden hues of the outside lights, he could see the freckles smattered across her cheeks. They must have been covered up by makeup earlier that day.

“Hey, Red. Where do you live?”

She got lost in his gaze, a small smile crossing her face. “Definitely not with my parents.”

Amara snorted. Cobra wet his bottom lip, unsure if that was supposed to be flirting or not. “Red. I’m taking you home,” he said, squaring her by the shoulders. Gen snorted, waving him off.

“He’s good to drive, honey,” Amara said, stroking Gen’s shoulder. “And you need to get home and go to bed.” Under her breath, she said to Cobra, “Thank God she didn’t get that last shot.”

“I’ve got her,” Cobra said, slinging his arm behind her back. He jerked his chin toward the bar. “Go find Travis. Use the cab you called for Gen. I’ll get her to her house.”

Amara nodded, watching them as she shuffled toward the door. “Make sure she takes an aspirin. Water by the bedside. And I’ll make sure Travis knows not to expect her too early tomorrow.”

Cobra nodded, guiding Gen toward the darkened parking lot off to the side of the bar. She stumbled awkwardly as he tried to keep her arm slung around his shoulder. She was gangly at this level of drunkenness, pure limbs and scuffs.

“Where are we going?” she asked after he’d stuffed her in the passenger side of his black 2004 Corolla. It was the definition of beater, and more than one shitty drug dealer had this car. But it worked well enough, most of the time.

“Your place,” he said before he shut the door. He hurried around to the other side. The air in the car had the bite of liquor already from her breath. Her head lolled to the side, eyes fastened shut.

“Hmmm,” she said.

“Don’t sleep yet.” The car didn’t start on the first try. “What’s your address?”