Page 21 of First Impressions of You

“I hate your classes.” I give her a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

“You’re going to stay here?” She places a stray lock of her behind my ear. I nod, promising to let her know when I get home. Sometimes Julia acts exactly like our mom.

I wave them off and go find some coworkers to keep me distracted, pretending I’m not wondering if Winter has already left too.

I find out that Winter hasn’t left yet when I’m on my way to the bar to grab what could be my fourth or fifth mojito. I’ve stopped counting.

This time, I don’t run into him, which is good because I feel like my balance is not at its best right now, and I wouldn’t want to give him any more reasons to hate me. Not that he needs them. He already hates me plenty.

“I thought you’d left,” I say, but I’m not sure why I’m starting a conversation with him. It must be the alcohol talking.

“I didn’t,” he states the obvious.

“Too bad. You should’ve.” I shrug and try to walk past him, but he places a hand on my arm, my skin prickling at the touch.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not enough to want to stay here talking to you.” But apparently enough to have lost all my filter.

And maybe enough to shiver under the touch of his gentle hand going down my arm to circle around my wrist.

He tries to move me, pulling my body behind him. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you to find your sisters.”

“Olivia’s with her friends, and Julia’s left.” It was a little past ten when she told me she was going home, and I have no idea what time it is now.

“Wait.” I pull my arm back, forcing him to turn on his heel to face me. “Cam’s left too. What are you still doing here?”

“Fucking hell,” he cusses. Even though it’s not directed toward me exactly, I take offense.

“Fuck you,” I respond in equal measure.

“I didn’t—” He exhales loudly. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“Thank you.” I take a mock bow. “I work very hard on that. I appreciate you noticing it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I free my arm of his grip and motion to the bar. “I was going to get myself a drink.”

“You—”

“Nope,” I cut him off with a finger on his lips before he can say anything that will make me madder at him. “Do not say it.”

He looks down at my hand, and suddenly all the alcohol evaporates from my body, and I am too damn sober. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down with a hard swallow as I lower my hand, but somehow it ends following the hard curves of his biceps. My eyes drop to the floor, too embarrassed to look up. And yet, my hand can’t seem to move away from him.

Winter presses a gentle finger under my chin, tipping my head up to look at him. A lump forms in my throat when his gaze meets mine, the amber in his irises dancing like flames.

“Are you sure you’re okay to stay?”

“Y-yes,” I mumble with a shaky voice, but all the determination to stay and have more drinks have left me. I shake my head, breaking the contact that has seemingly made my brain malfunction and dropping my hand from his arm. I take a step back. “No.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “No?”

“I’m gonna go.” I pull the hem of my dress down, suddenly too self-conscious. “I should go home.”

He nods. “How are you going? Are you driving?”

“I don’t—” I stop myself before I tell him I don’t have a car. He doesn’t need to know that. I’ve already given him too much ammunition tonight. “I’m getting an Uber.”

“Let me drive you home,” he offers, and now I know for sure I’m definitely too drunk. I must have heard him wrong.

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