I give him a considering look, and I feel my mouth twist into a smirk. Tilting my head to the side, I blow out a ring of smoke. “You could say that.”

As if from a distance, I hear the girl giggle. Will’s gaze drops to my cheek and an unreadable emotion flashes across his eyes, disappearing before I could even hope to try and put a name to it. His attention there and gone in a wink as he looks away, turning his head and scratching the prominent edge of his stubbly jaw.

The redhead, whose name I can’t remember for the life of me, tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She glances at Will and chews on her lip.

“Seriously?” Ivy mutters, for my ears only.

“Dude, you know you can’t smoke in here,” Mason says tiredly.

I roll my eyes and lean forward to stab what little is left of my cigarette into the flipped-up cap of the whiskey.

The lights come on all at once, startling us. I blink as my eyes adjust, and bring the bottle of Jack to my mouth. Across from me, I notice Will’s brought his beer up to his at the same time.

We both pause. I narrow my eyes, and he cocks his brow.

I don’t watch how his throat works with each swallow.

I swear I don’t.

Not at all.

“So, Will, should I say welcome to Hell,” my cousin asks in a voice dripping with sweetness, “or have you already reconsidered?” She flutters her lashes. “A little birdy told me you put a down-payment on Reggie’s apartment for the next month. I imagine you’d need to work...” She scrapes a nail over the table, letting her voice trail off meaningfully.

I stiffen.

He’s fucking staying?

The redhead ping-pongs her gaze between the two with a slight frown, and it’s almost enough to make me laugh. My cousin’s such a fucking bitch sometimes. Normally, I love it.

Will nearly chokes on his beer. Setting the bottle down, he coughs into his fist and flicks a look my way before focusing on Ivy.

He lifts his mouth into that stupid, slow grin of his. One that is much too fucking cocky as he drawls, “Well. Hell’s where all the fun’s at, isn’t it?”

I roll my eyes, having to fight a smile when I hear some of that rough Philly lilt. A glimpse of the little boy I once knew, but now layered by the gruff, hardened edges of manhood.

Jesus Christ, I really need to get out of here.

Mason chuckles. “Yeah, I think you’ll fit right in.”

“You keep doing that and your eyes are going to get stuck like that.”

I turn toward my cousin and cross my eyes like the child I am. “Better?”