“Do you need a ride?” My brow arches as I rear back. “What?” “A ride?” He assesses me with a smug smirk. “You know, the thing where you get in my car and I drive you home.” “Haven’t you been drinking?” “Water,” he says earnestly, forming a quick cross over his chest. “That’s it.” I eye him suspiciously. “Why are you being nice to me?” “Feel like mixing it up.”
