Page 18 of First Impressions of You

The AC is on full blast, but it’s still not enough to keep the heat away. I feel the humidity cling to my skin as soon as I get past the host stand along with the smell of beer, sweat, and fried goods—exactly what you’d expect a bar to smell like. The music blasting through the speakers is a pop hit that has everyone inside singing along, setting the tone for the night.

It doesn’t take me long to locate Olivia. She’s wearing a bright pink birthday girl sash over a minidress that resembles a disco globe. God help me, she already has a tall glass of beer in her hand. And she doesn’t even look shy about it when our eyes meet across the sea of people between us.

“Luuuli,” she yelps, splashing the amber liquid over a friend who’s glued to her side as she tries to make her way to me. I quicken my steps, trying to reach her without more people getting sloshed on in the process.

“Feliz aniversário, mana.” I wrap my hands around her middle, wishing her a happy birthday in Portuguese. I haven’t used that term of endearment in such a long time, I’m surprised it’s slipped so easily.

“Obrigada,” she says, her voice an octave higher than usual, her face pulled in a bright smile. “I love you. You know that?” Her mixing the two languages tells me this isn’t her first beer of the night.

“I do,” I assure her also in English, planting a kiss on her temple and following her lead in mixing both languages. “Eu também te amo.”

It is true. I do love her. I want to kill her most of the time, but I’d kill for her at any time.

“Guys,” Olivia calls to no one in particular, turning back to where she came from, an arm firmly wrapped around my waist. “Look who’s here. It’s my favorite sister!”

“Hey!” Julia complains in mock offense. I make my way to her and am not surprised to see Cam already there, standing next to her, looking at my sister like she hung the moon.

“Cam.” I give him a quick hug.

“Hey, Luiza,” he greets me cheerfully. “Have you heard anything about the audition yet?”

“Not yet, no.” He seems to want to say something else about it, but I don’t want to think about it. Not today at least, so I tell them I’m going to get something to drink.

The place is crowded, and it takes me twice as long as usual to get to the bar. There are people dancing to the music, people gathered in small circles talking, people too drunk to be moving and end up bumping into everyone and everything, making it harder for anyone else to move.

I’m hit by one of those drunks when I’m almost at the bar. I have my eyes laser-focused on the tiny space between two stools that I intend to squeeze into so I can place my order. My eyes are set on that spot, and that’s why I don’t see it coming. My peripheral vision doesn’t register the drunk dude stumbling his way to me until it’s too late.

He’s a big guy, and even though I’m no small girl, all of his weight crashes on me, sending me down sideways.

Bracing myself for the full impact of my hips hitting the floor, I close my eyes and helplessly flail around, trying to grab something to hold on to. I don’t think I’ll actually find anything, so when my fall is broken by a strong pull on my arm, a surprised gasp leaves my lips.

For a second, I hover just above the floor, then I’m pulled upright.

I don’t feel the pain until I’m standing up straight again. As soon as it hits, though, I take my right hand to my left shoulder trying to ease the ache.

“Are you okay?” a low voice asks from behind me, so close I can feel the vibration of the words on my skin.

Why is my brain so attuned to his voice? Why is it that I don’t have to turn around to know who’s standing next to me?

My brain tries to signal to my body to stay alert, but my traitorous system runs a chill down my spine at the sound of his low, raspy voice.

I turn and find a familiar pair of dark brown eyes staring back at me. Winter meets my gaze from under the brim of his cap and holds it for a second too long before his eyes trail over me, searching every inch he can see in the dim light of the bar.

For the briefest moment, I wonder if he’s checking me out, but I quickly banish the thought. No. He’s looking for injury. If he were anyone else, I’d think he was concerned, but this is Winter. I’m sure he’s not familiar with the concept of worrying about anyone but himself.

“You need to be careful, Luiza,” he says, confirming my thoughts. He’s not worried. He’s pissed that I almost fell right in front of him. He should’ve left me drop to the floor.

“He slammed right into me,” I protest. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re at a bar, full of drunk people. You have to be aware of your surroundings.”

Why is he such an asshole? What, he thinks I wanted to fall?

“Fuck you, Winter.” The words are out before I can stop myself. Apparently, after uttering them the first time, it’s become easier letting them out. “You think I fell on purpose? This might shock you, but not everything in the world happens for the sole purpose of annoying you.”

Though I’m deciding now that annoying him will be one of my goals in life.

“I didn’t—” He’s so frustrated with me that he can’t get the words past his lips. His throat working overtime as he swallows back the words. “Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Are you hurt?”

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