He’s tucked in a corner facing me, talking to an alt-looking girl who has her back to me. His gaze is pinned to mine. His smirk is slow when he raises his pint to his lips, missing its usual levity. Putting down his beer on the table next to him, he reaches up and gently strokes her hair. Ozzy’s eyes drop to hers, then swiftly back to mine. His fingers trail her naked shoulder, and I shiver, swallowing hard.
oh
