I swirl my whiskey in its glass against the table, probably looking as unaffected as I feel talking about the matter.

“I never bring anyone to my room. I have a big place. We enjoy each other elsewhere. In one of the few guestrooms my condo has, for instance. And when we’re done, I retire to my room. Sleeping together isn’t part of the deal. I fuck, Winter. I don’t date, I don’t make love, I don’t court women or plan elaborate weekend trips. I fuck, then I sleep in my bed alone.”

“Wow.” She wipes the fry grease from her hands onto a paper napkin, then takes a sip of her water. “That’s awful.”

“I’m not an asshole because of that. I’m not dishonest about my intentions.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I may be going through a rough patch when it comes to love. I may be a little off, and angry right now, but I want companionship someday. I want love. You’re just choosing to be alone. For what, for forever?”

I open my mouth to speak. To say what, I don’t know. Thankfully, I’m cut off by a garish looking woman wearing a hot pink jumpsuit and a giant red nest of hair sitting on top of her head.

“Hello, hello, hello, Little Billies…”

“Aye, Barb! Oy, oy, oy!” the bar sing-songs its response.

Somebody shoot me.

“Who’s up for some singing tonight?” She croaks into the microphone, the three packs of cigarettes she smokes a day clear in her baritone. The bar crowd yells, bubbling with excitement.

This is my worst nightmare.

“Who’s brave enough to be our first rockstar?”

Just when I’m about to suggest to Winter that we walk down the road to one of the more elegant establishments so we can speak in a quieter setting, Winter raises her hand.

“Me…” she calls out, her voice quiet and shaky. She clears her throat, gathering courage. “I’ll sing.”

“What are you doing?” I say, my eyes widening.

“I’m going to sing. You coming?”

A laugh immediately escapes me. “Not a chance, Little Billie. This is all you.”

Winter laughs, then swallows down the rest of her whiskey before sliding out of the booth and walking her sexy ass onto the stage. Every single eye in the bar is soaking up her presence. But her eyes are on me, searching my face.

Am I horrified for her? Embarrassed? Do I approve? She appears to be wondering.

I wink, telling her I’m only a few feet away, comforting my new roommate as if she needs it.

And when did that happen? When did she start giving a shit what I think? And when did I start giving a shit if she’s comforted or not?

“Alright, honey. What do you plan on singing for us tonight?”

“Um…” Winter giggles, her hair falling into her eyes. She bites her bottom lip, nervously, and fuck if my hardening cock isn’t threatening to flip this table. “‘Elastic Heart’ by Sia,” she says.