Staring at him, I had no friggin’ clue where this attitude was coming from. Kyler could be moody sometimes, though. Apparently this was one of those moments. “I totally said I was inviting him weeks ago, and you didn’t have a problem with it then.”

“I must’ve been drunk when you asked me,” he muttered, taking the road leading to the beltway. “Paul? Do you like him or something?”

“What?” I gawked at him. “He’s a nice guy.”

His long fingers thrummed off the steering wheel. “That’s not what I asked.”

It took me a couple of moments to answer. Paul was really nice and funny, and I probably wouldn’t kick him out of my bed for eating crackers. “No,” I said finally. “I don’t like him, like him.”

Kyler didn’t say anything to that and he didn’t say anything until we hit the beltway. “I think he likes you.”

I arched a brow, remembering how he’d accused Paul of eyeballing us last night. “You think he likes me?”

He nodded curtly.

Andrea had said the same thing countless times before, but I’d always thought it was her way of trying to get me to obsess over someone other than Kyler. “How would you even know that, since you obviously aren’t BFFs with him?”

“Why?” Easily hitting the express lane, he glanced at me. “Does knowing he’s got the hots for you change the way you think of him?”

“What?” I threw my hands up, frustrated. “This is a stupid conversation.”

Kyler flashed a quick grin, but his eyes were so dark they almost seemed black. “And I’m a guy. I know when another guy wants a chick. It’s in the way the guy looks at a girl. Says it all.”

I chewed on my thumbnail. Maybe there could be something there, because pining away after Kyler was stupid, and if Paul was willing… “You’re full of it.”

“He stares at you every time we go out.” He paused and reached over, tugging on my sleeve until I dropped my hand. “And if you want to know how he stares at you, it’s like he’s pretty much fucking you with his eyes.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s romantic.” A secret little rush of pleasure zinged through me, because it was nice to know that someone thought I was desirable, even if it wasn’t the one I wanted.

He snickered. “It’s the truth. Though, I don’t know what the guy is thinking.”

I turned to him slowly. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Trying to get with you,” he finished, eyes narrowing as he peered at the green exit signs. “He’s out of his mind. You’re not…”