Levi and I hang for almost an hour at the bar, drinking and watching the girls. I actually lose count of how much I drink, which is not normal for me. I’m going to regret this in the morning, but I don’t care. I keep an eye on Beck as she moves around the dance floor, swaying and grinding in time to the loud club music.

She floats. I don’t know if it’s her, or her clothes—or both—but she just floats across the dance floor, captivating every eye. She’s like a flame that all the moths are drawn to. I see guy after guy try and dance with her—it’s Club Havana, and this is what it’s all about.

But Brianna’s really good at moving them away after a dance or two, so in spite of my growing anger and frustration—because I want to keep her safe, I tell myself, not because I want to be the one dancing with her—I don’t feel like I need to go out and beat anybody’s ass.

I’d like to. It would probably make me feel better, right up to the point where the cops were called.

I sigh.

“Holy shit,” Levi says, “Beck’s on some kind of mission tonight.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“She looks hot—I know, man, not supposed to look, but she does—and she’s on fire tonight. I think that the guy that broke up with her did a number on her.”

“Yeah?” I know I can’t look too interested, so I go for bored instead.

“That’s what it sounds like. Bri told me a little about it. He really messed her up.”

“Being cheated on will do that,” I say shortly. Every time I think of that asshole sleeping with Beck, then dumping her, I see red.

“Is that what happened with Val?”

I shake my head. “She’s just too busy for anything but school.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure she is.”

I’m saved from having to answer him—or punch him for insinuation I’m a liar—by the girls returning from the dance floor. They’re flushed, laughing. There’s still a sheen of sweat gleaming on Beck’s chest. I think about how it would taste against my tongue—salty, but also like Beck. I don’t know what Beck tastes like.

Stop it! Of course you don’t know what she tastes like. She’s practically your sister.

Then why can’t I stop looking at her?

“Hey!” Beck yells, and throws her arms around me. I can smell the floral, and the extra something, and her sweat. It nearly kills me. I pull away. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem to notice. “Let’s do more shots! Something fruity!”

“Okay, calm down,” I say, laughing in spite of myself. I turn to the bartender. “You heard the lady.”

“Lemon drops!” Brianna shrieks.

He gets them ready, lines them up in front of me. Levi and Brianna move in to flank me, and both of them pick up a shot glass. We clink glasses.

But where the hell is Beck?

I turn, and that fucking Evan guy is back. Beck’s standing a foot or so away, smiling up at him. As I watch, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

What the fuck? I see red. Literal red.

They laugh, and Beck throws her head back. The line of her neck is staggering.

Before I have time to even understand what’s happening, she darts over, ducks under my arm, and grabs the shot, the lemon, and the sugar packet. She carries them back and hands everything to Evan, then—oh, shit.

She boosts herself up on the bar and lays back, pulling that fairy shirt up to expose a subtly muscled expanse of tanned midriff.

Evan smiles at me—a smile I recognize, one guy to another, a smile that says You lose, buddy—and pours the shot onto Beck’s stomach. She shrieks with laughter as he hands her the lemon wedge, and a little bit of the shot runs down the side of her waist and drips on the bar.

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. She pops the lemon wedge in her mouth. The dribble of alcohol slides across her skin. Evan tears open the sugar packet and the grains trickle down to form a small mound just above her navel.

Nope.

I don’t even think; I just act. Two long strides, and I shoulder-check Evan out of the way. Beck’s eyes go wide. I lean in and slurp the shot out of her belly-button, then lick the mound of sugar off and move up over her body.

She’s hot and sweaty, and when I nip the lemon wedge out of her mouth, my sticky lips catch on hers for just second. I can’t think. I can’t see. I’m rock-hard in my jeans, and I just want to climb up on top of her and bury my hands in all that hair. Take that mouth.

Evan’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Hey—” he begins.

I spit the lemon wedge onto the bar beside Beck and swing around. He’s bigger than me, but apparently he sees something in my eyes that makes him think twice.

“Hey, man, sorry.” He holds up his hands, palms out, then backs up and disappears into the crowd.

Beck’s struggling to sit up. “Garrett—”

“What the fuck, Beck?” I pull her upright and glare at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she counters. “You licked me!”

I did. I did lick her. She tasted like lemons and sugar and booze—and like Beck. Even with the puckery taste of the lemon and the sweet taste of the sugar, it's only Beck on my tongue. I didn’t know what Beck tasted like before now. I feel like I want to keep tasting her forever.

“I wouldn’t have licked you if you weren’t being so irresponsible,” I snap. I pick her up by the waist and swing her down onto the floor.

She shoves me away from her. “I’m not irresponsible!”

“Yes, you are.” My head is reeling, and I lash out at her. “You’re so sloppy drunk you’re gonna let some strange dude do body shots off you? That’s the definition of irresponsible.”

“That’s not any of your business,” she spits back.

“I’m taking you back to the hotel. You’re trashed.”

It strikes me, somewhat boozily, that this is a great idea. Get her away from all these guys, tuck her into bed, and go crash myself—because I’m feeling pretty trashed, too, now that I mention it.

“I’m fine,” she says. “You’re just being an asshole!” She reaches over to push me again, and stumbles.

I catch her. “See? You can’t even walk.” Holding her hand so she can’t get away, I move over to Levi and Brianna, who are watching this whole thing. “I’m going to take Beck back to the hotel.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Levi asks.

Why would he say that? “Yeah. She’s shitfaced.”

“I can take her,” Brianna says.

“No, I got it,” I wave a hand. “You guys stay, have fun. Let’s meet back up for brunch tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Brianna smiles at Levi. “You still haven’t danced with me.”

He grimaces.

“Come on,” I say to Beck, “let’s go. You’re completely wasted, and you’ll be embarrassed if you start puking all over the place.”

She scowls at me, but follows when I head toward the door, towing her along with me. When we get outside, I pull out my phone and get us an Uber. Beck shrugs off her little backpack and pulls her wrap thing out. I find myself wishing she’d kept it on, for fuck’s sake.

“I’m not talking to you,” she says, crossing her arms. “I’m mad.”

“Fine. Concentrate on not puking while you’re at it.”

“I’m not going to be sick,” she mutters.

“Says you.” I cross my arms, too. It feels like a stand-off, but I’m not going to apologize for taking care of her, or for not letting some random dude-bro lick her body. My vision hazes red again as I imagine having to stand there and watch him put his lips on her. Fuck no, I’m not apologizing.

The Uber rolls up, and I take her hand again. We don’t speak all the way back to the hotel. When we get there, I take her up to her room and wait while she fumbles with the swipe.

“I’ve got it,” I say, and take it from her, swiping so the door lock buzzes green. “Did you really think it was a good idea to get so drunk you can’t even open your door?”

She pushes past me into the room, throws her backpack on the floor beside the loveseat. “You’re being a jerk,” she says. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

I let the door slam behind me. “Jerk? I’m a jerk? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

“What could happen to me?” she demands, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “I don’t know, I could have a good time? I could be normal, and not have people up my ass twenty-four seven? That’s what could happen!”

“Obviously, you haven’t got the slightest instinct for danger.”

“What the hell does that mean? What danger? I was in a public place, with all my best friends hovering over me to make sure I don’t so much as catch a fucking chill. What danger?”

“Really? What danger? What would you have done if one of the guys you were dancing and flirting with tonight wanted to take it a little further?”

“I’m an adult.” Her anger has been replaced by a coldness I’ve rarely seen on her. “I’m tired of you acting like you have to protect me from the world. I can handle myself.”

“Then do it next time,” I say, turning to leave, “so I don’t have to.”

Behind me, she raises her voice. “Piss off, Garrett. You’re not the boss of me, and no matter how much you act like it, you’re not my big brother.”

I stop, turn back slowly. “No. I’m not your big brother.”

Our gazes meet, and lock. I can’t stop staring at her, and her neck and cheeks begin to flush. There’s something almost palpable in the air between us, something that. I’m just now realizing has been between us since dinner.

Her mouth parts slightly as her breathing deepens, hitches a little.

It’s only three steps. Three steps and I’m in front of her, taking her in my arms. I wrap myself around her, cradling her head in one hand. I feel the sweat at the base of her skull and I’ve never been so turned on by anyone before.

Which is fucked, but I’ll deal with that later.

Then I kiss her.