Page 129 of Run Away Home: Tempered

“You did it at McAlister’s the other night.”

“And I never want to do it again.”

“It’s a small glass. You can do it.”

I pick up the glass and hold my nose. I shoot it down the back of my throat, making as little contact with my tongue as possible.

“Now it’s a party,” he says. “Another?”

“I haven’t even finished swallowing this one yet, and you’re asking me if I’m ready for another?” I cough and shake my head slowly.

“Is there something wrong with your throat? How long does it take you to swallow?” He picks up my wine and takes a leisurely sip. He crosses his legs and flips his hair behind his shoulder without smiling.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, why? Do you do what I just did?” He teases, leaning in closer.

“Not as well as you do it.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, I told you about my worst date. Your turn to tell me about yours,” I insist.

“I don’t have bad dates.”

“Oh, yeah? I wonder if the women feel the same way.”

“Judging by how the night usually ends, I’d say they do.”

“You think this date will end the same way?” I ask, raising one brow and slouching over the table. I’m surprised at how brazen I’ve become. Then again, I am really starting to feel the alcohol.

“That’s entirely up to you,” he answers. “But I’m open to it, just so you know.”

I pick up my phone. “I’m getting an Uber now.”

“Hopefully to your place because mine—”

“Yeah, I know,” I interrupt him.

“Check, please,” Peter says with a big smile as the waiter approaches our table.

Tristian

HALS FELL ASLEEP ONthe couch, and she has her head dug deep into my fucking rib cage. She’s dead asleep and drooling all over my fucking shirt. I lift her head a little and try to slide out from underneath her.

“Where are you going?” she asks groggily without opening her eyes.

“Bathroom.”

“Ugh. All right.”

“I’ll be right back.”

I lay her head back down on the couch. She immediately starts snoring. Awesome.

Now, if I were an ugly little weasel, twerp, rat, troll...where would I hide a key?

Chapter Twenty-Three

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