“Eisley!” I followed behind her. “I’m sorry. I thought we were—” “Were what?” she snapped. Standing at the island, she slammed a tumbler down and poured dark amber liquor into it. She reached for a thinner bottle of purple liquid and added it to my drink. “We’re not anything.” She slid the drink over to me. I reached for it and brought it to my lips. “You’re angry with me.”
