“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to buy her own drinks,” he said with a wink. Some deep, dark, dank part of me worried how she’d react to other men hitting on her, or if I’d end up an emotional, jealous, constantly worried man-child. Liya tucked hair behind her right ear. “I can buy my own drinks. And I’m not a thing.” The man’s grin wavered. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that—” “And I’m here with someone.”
