Page 2 of Seduced By My Brother's Best Friend
She sits up straighter and smiles at him. “One drink, please,” she says politely.
I chuckle lightly.
“What kind?” the bartender asks.
“We’ll have two shots of vodka,” I tell Mike.
He walks away to grab our drinks while Fallon turns to me.
“Whatever you’re up to. No.”
“I’m going to get you drunk,” I announce.
She frowns. “No. I just came to have some drinks. I did not come to get drunk.”
“Come on, Fallon Wright,” I say, throwing my arm over her shoulder. “Live a little. It’ll be fun.”
She pushes my arm off and glares. I give her an innocent smile as she ponders my words for a minute before letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Promise to take me to Damien’s if I get drunk. Not your house,” she enunciates. “My brother’s.”
“I promise.”
Five shots of vodka later, I’m starting to think I have severely underestimated Fallon Wright.
“How are you not even buzzed or tipsy?” I ask her, fighting not to slur my words.
She shrugs. The only evidence she has taken any alcohol tonight is the redness of her cheeks. Otherwise, she looks fine. Not drunk at all.
“I guess I just have a naturally high tolerance,” she states.
I tilt my head in confusion.
“Damn,” I say under my breath. “How much do I have to get you to drink before you get drunk?”
“Nothing! Because I’m not drinking anymore. I played your game, you lost, and now I’m going home,” she states before getting to her feet.
She places a few dollar bills on the counter and grabs her jacket. I still can’t fathom how she’s okay. I get to my feet to go after her, but I can only walk a few steps before stumbling into her back. She turns and catches me.
“Alexander,” she groans.
I smile. “I like it when you call me that.”
Damn, damn, damn. I must really be drunk if I’m actually admitting that to her. But in my defense, I had already downed two beers before she arrived.
She squints at me in confusion for a second before sighing. Then she leads me over to one of the booths.
“Stay here while I get you some water. It helps with drunk people, right?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer before walking away. I run my hands through my hair and groan.
Fuck. My last night with her, and I’m fucking drunk. This night can’t get any worse.
Of course, you should never think that. A commotion has my neck snapping up. I look up to see Fallon pushing off a big burly guy with neck tattoos and earrings. My blood instantly boils. I grit my teeth and get to my feet, taking slow, measured steps toward the scene.
“Get off!” Fallon says angrily, shoving at the guy’s chest. He refuses to listen.
“She said to get the hell off,” I say before pulling him off her and punching him in the same movement.
