My ribcage rises, shoulders lifting, only to drop with a huff. “This again? Look, I just didn’t feel like it. Okay?”

He nods, picking at a chipped piece of wood in the bar top. His eyes drift toward the guitar, brow creasing in thought.

The shirt fits him perfectly, not that I’d ever tell him. It molds to his biceps, but leaves enough room around his chest and tapered waist so as not to threaten to burst at the seams. The pants are a bit short on him, and it’s been a constant struggle to keep my eyes above waist level. Perhaps not giving him boxers was the worst best idea I ever had.

He’s also barefoot.

Groaning at my thoughts, I grab the whiskey.

He arches me a look as I take a quick swig. “Fuck off,” I rasp as liquid fire trails down my throat. “I don’t need the lecture.”

“Maybe you do.”

I stiffen.

“I know I have no right—”

“You’re damn right you don’t.”

“—but I’m entitled to my opinion, and my opinion is that you might have a problem.”

I roll my eyes, and he takes the moment to grab the bottle from me.

I go to bark out an objection, but stop when all he does is put the bottle to his mouth. He arches a brow as he tips his head back.

He swallows with the barest hint of a grimace. “That being said...” He slides the bottle back toward me, lifting a shoulder. “My presence alone seems to drive you to drink, so I don’t think I’m the best fit for the task.”

I scoff. “You’re not that fucking special.”

He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest. “You think I’m special?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But you—”

“I think you’re a fucking asshole.”

He winks. “Takes one to know one, Cupcake.”

I grind my teeth and look away.

Neither of us say anything for a while, wordlessly passing the Jack Daniels between us every few minutes. I probably should have gotten us glasses. Pretend we’re civilized people here. Especially now that I’m not the only one drinking it. We’re in a bar, for fuck’s sake—we’re surrounded by options.

“It sounds like it’s getting pretty bad out there.”

“Yup.”

More silence.

“It’s hard to believe it’s a Friday night.”

“Yeah.”

Will sighs in exasperation. “Seriously?”

I shrug, widening my eyes innocently from behind the bottle as I take a swig.

“You’re making this really painful, you know.”

“That’s what she said.”

He gives me a what the fuck look, and I smirk, passing him the bottle. “It’s this joke, in case you weren’t aware, that straight people say when—”