Page 34 of Careless

“Yeah?” I can’t help the snort that accompanies my question.Bothis a funny word.

“I meant what I said.” I know exactly what she’s referring to and it immediately sobers my disposition.

She sees me as her friend and my brother has absolutely no influence on that title.

“Thanks. Don’t tell him that, though. I’d hate for you to deflate my brother’s ego,” I joke, but nearly trip over my feet.

I definitely drank way more than I thought I did, or maybe it’s the combo of alcohol and weed that’s messing with me.

“Woah, feisty pants.” Rian’s arms hook around my waist, preventing me from busting my ass.

Feisty pants? Well, I do have a knack for fighting with him.

“I’m not wearing pants,” I grumble and wave at my skort.

“You’re plastered.” The words are nearly a growl on his lips and I straighten my posture in response. Apparently I equate good posture with being sober? Anyways, who does this guy think he is? He’s not my dad.

Or my brother.

Or mine.

Anger starts to color my mood, “I am not!”

“She didn’t drink a lot, but she did smoke a bunch of weed. She’s crossfading big time.”

I glare wide eyed at the tattler, Francine. Sure, I know Rian wouldn’t believe that I’m not messed up, but she didn’t have to rat me out like that. Plus, I ate pizza, so it’s not like the alcohol will last long and the high of weed is very fleeting.

“Bye!” Francine waves enthusiastically as I give her the middle finger. She blows me a kiss and damn her, I can’t stay mad at her for long.

Rian is a different subject though.

I try to calm myself and drag in several gulps of the crisp night air. It doesn’t help. Rian’s grip on my arm is tight as he tows me to his car. He releases me to open my door. He raises a brow at me expectantly when I just stand there. I squint my eyes in response.

What a fucking gentleman.

As gracefully as possible, I settle upon the leather seat. I reach for the seatbelt, but grab Rian’s hand instead as he already has it in his grasp. I pull my arm back as if I had just been bitten by a snake. Apparently, he doesn’t trust me to buckle my own damn seatbelt.

Damn control freak of a fucking gentleman.

Soon, we’re on the road and the car is completely silent except for the engine turning with each press of the gas. I close my eyes and inhale the leather and musk that dances around me. I need to break the silence before it becomes too much.

“You didn’t have to come pick me up,” I whisper. “I was going to wait it out.”

“No, you weren’t. You were going to drive yourself home, and that’s not happening when you’re drunk.”

I can feel him grinding his molars from over here. He’s angry? Two can play at this game.

My jaw tenses in anger and my voice rises. “Don’t pretend you know what I’m thinking or planning.”

I hate this. I hate that we’ve turned into this. I hate that I can’t just look at him or talk to him without feeling this ache deep inside.

We hit a red light as I stare out the window, avoiding looking in his direction. There’s no other car around, the lights are usually on a timer this late at night.

“Do you know why I said I don’t fuck girls who look like you?” His fingers drum heavily on his leather steering wheel to a song only he can hear. He stops abruptly and his pained voice breaks through. I need to stop from lashing out at him for even bringing this up.

The last thing I want to think about is him screwing other girls. It almost makes me want to bring up Jason, but I don’t. I know Rian would never hurt me, but sharing this info with him while driving probably wouldn’t be the safest thing to do.

“Because you’re the one I really want, and that’s a slippery slope. I’d end up picturing the girl was you and I know I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Just the fact that I know what you taste like makes it hard to be around you and not lick your pussy.”

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