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“Well, top of the fucking morning to you, Grouch,” Will said. “What’s your problem?” I swallowed again, raising my eyes to the prize once more. “Nothing my dick can’t solve if you leave me alone for ten minutes,” I told him, staring at her. “What do you want?” “To make you smile.”
People assumed I behaved strictly on impulse, when actually, it required quite a bit of strategy being this fucked up.
“Oh, I remember this,” I taunted in his ear, every inch of my chest pressed against his back and both us very aware of my groin on his ass. “This is what you really missed, isn’t it?” He jerked his head back, trying to head butt me. “Don’t fucking talk about that,” he growled. “I was drunk.” “All three times?”
I took another drink, kind of wanting to kill myself for a second, too.
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Ironically, that wasn’t the first time I’d been stabbed on that same side.