My cell buzzes against my jeans.

I reach for it. Stop myself.

I'm too expressive when it comes to Em. If she's telling me she's about to fuck this guy but she's out of condoms, I'll lose it.

I scan the room for a private spot.

Alice's place is cute. White walls. Poppies on the windowsill. Seashells lining the mantle.

It's straight out of a home and garden magazine.

Beach casual. An easy, breezy decor that will make guests dream of salty air and crashing waves.

She crosses her legs as she brings her mug to her lips.

We're only halfway into our coffee.

I'm trying to find that thrill.

But staring at her tits isn't doing anything to motivate me.

They're nice tits, yeah.

She's hot.

She's eager.

Interested.

But it's not enough.

I don't need another empty fuck.

The hole in my gut is big enough.

I'm not doing anything to tear it wider.

Alice finishes her last sip. "You mind if I switch to wine?"

"No." Yeah. I was never a wine drinker, but it's not like I was picky. Whatever it took to get trashed. "But I have to admit something."

"Yeah?"

"I can't stand wine." My cell buzzes again.

"No." She presses her hand to her chest. "Really?"

"Tastes like vinegar."

"Take that back."

"I have to speak the truth."

She laughs. "God, you're lucky you're already here."

Once upon a time, I would have thought that too. I would have been over the moon fucking an eager babe who wanted to ply me with wine. But now—

All I can think about is Emma.

"Not liking wine is a deal-breaker." A laugh spills from her lips. "Wine is life."

"I know what you mean." Maybe that's the cliché Latin phrase tattooed to her ribs. In Vita Vinum.

That's another reason why I shouldn't be here.

It's hard enough avoiding booze when it's far away.

When there's a gorgeous woman begging me to drink?

Fuck, I need to get out of here.

"Where's your bathroom?" I ask.

She motions to a room down the hall.

My heart thuds against my chest as I lock myself inside.

I'm not sure if it's the calls or the wine or the combination.

I make a mental note to go to a meeting first thing in the morning.

Wipe my palms on a towel.

Splash cool water on my face.

Then I pull out my cell to check her text.

Emma: Are you still free?

Emma: I could use a ride.

Emma: But if you're busy fucking Carpe Diem, I'll summon a ride share.

There are two missed calls.

She's acting calm, but if there are calls, she must be freaked.

I hit the button to call her back.

She answers with a shaky voice. "Hunter."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just… I overreacted to something." Her words run together. She's nervous. And a little drunk.

"You called twice."

"Did I fuck up your date?" There's no fire in her voice. None of the usual sharpness. Just fear.

"What happened?"

"I need a ride."

"Are you drunk?"

"No." She lets out a heavy exhale. "Maybe."

"Em—"

"Forget it. I'll call an Uber."

"No. Stay there. I'll be there soon."

"If you're mad—"

"Stay there." I hang up the call before she can argue.

In the living room, Alice is sipping a glass of red wine.

She has this easy smile, like she really believes everything will always be okay. "Everything okay?"

No. I slide my cell into my pocket. "I gotta go."

"Oh." Her fingers curl into my forearm. "I guess you're—"

"Have a good night."

She yells some goodbye as I run out the door.

I park on the street. Pull out my cell to text Emma.

Hunter: I'm here.

Emma: I'm coming.

Hunter: I can come in.

Emma: This will be faster. Just stay there.

What the hell has her so scared?

I hate it.

I want to do whatever it takes to fix it.

The song switches to the next. I pick up my cell. Switch the album to one of those pop-punk bands Emma likes. I need to offer her some kind of comfort.

This is a nice neighborhood. But so was mine.

My heart thuds against my chest.

My stomach twists.

My limbs get heavy.

Finally, she steps onto the deck.

She wraps her arms around her chest as she descends the stairs.

I open the door for her.

She slides inside and clicks her seatbelt. "Thanks."

"You okay?" I put the car in drive.

"Yeah." Her voice is shaky. "Just ready to be home."

"You sure?"

She nods.

It's not true. She's not okay. But staying here isn't helping matters. I pull onto the street, do a U-turn in a driveway, head back toward San Vincente.

She settles into her seat. "I thought you only listened to guys who mumble about their pain."

"And this—" I nod to the stereo as the vocalist's words run together.

For a split second, she smiles. "He's a bit of a mumbler."

"Hot?"

"Eh… The voice is hot. The face and body not as much."

"Harsh."

"Truth hurts sometimes." This time, her smile lasts a few seconds. Then it's gone and she has that same nervous expression.

Her dark eyes are full of fear.

"What happened, Em?"

"Nothing. I just needed to be home."

"Where's Collin?"

"Hanging with his friends. He was having a good time. I didn't want to ruin that."

"He try something?"

"Oh my God, Hunter, can we not?"

"No."

Her gaze shifts to the window. She watches storefronts run together. A frozen yogurt place. An expensive gym. A strip mall full of local chains. "Where's Carpe Diem?"

"At her place."

"Oh." She presses her lips together. They're not red anymore. Her lipstick is worn off.

It's not like her.

She's religious about reapplying her makeup.

"Did you already fuck her?" Her voice doesn't quite hit teasing. "Doesn't really speak well to your performance."

"What happened?"

She ignores me. "Did you go back to her place?"

"Yeah."

"So I cock blocked you?"

"That doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because… I… I'm not a cock blocker." Her fingers curl into her seatbelt.

"I wasn't gonna fuck her."

"Why not?"

"She's too nice."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"No. That's all she is to me. Nice."

"And you only want premium pussy?"

"That's a douchey way to put it," I say.

"Guess I spend too much time with Dean."

I stop at a red light. We're less than a dozen miles from Emma's place in Venice, but it feels like we're in another dimension. Brentwood is clean, rich, empty, soulless.

I study her expression, but it doesn't help. She's defensive. I get that. But not why. "What happened with Vanilla Latte?"

"Nothing."

"Em, you're shaking."

"No." She forces herself to sit upright. "I'm fine."

"How much did you have to drink?"

"I don't know. Enough."

"Enough?"

"I wanted to relax." She makes eye contact through the mirror. "Is that not allowed?"

Green light falls over her as the stoplight changes. I have to break eye contact to look to the street. It's empty, but better safe than sorry. "Approximate it."

"I wasn't pouring shots. I don't know." She wraps her hand around her seatbelt. "Why does that matter?"

"Drinking fucks with your judgment."

"Don't." She leans in to turn the radio up. "Nothing happened. I just wanted to be home."

That's bullshit.

But pushing her isn't working.

The street curves to the left. It's a long stretch of empty road. Then more lights.

They're all green.

It's like the city wants us home as quickly as possible.

My sedan glides over the streets until I hit Eleventh. I get into the left lane. To head back to her place.

"You went back to Carpe Diem's place?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"But you weren't planning on fucking her?"

"I wasn't sure yet."

"So…"

"I didn't feel that spark."

She clears her throat. "Do you really need that?"

"Yeah." Now.

"But you always… you weren't discriminating."

"Things change."

"Oh." She rests her head on the window. "Well, what happened? Where did it go wrong? Spell it out for me."

If that's really what she wants.

I need to soothe her.

Whatever it takes.

"She invited me to her place," I say. "We had a drink."

"So it's okay for you to drink—"

"Coffee."

"Oh."

"She made her intentions clear."

"How?"

"I know when a woman wants to fuck me."

"But what did she do? Specifically?"

"It was the way she looked at me. The way her hand would linger on my arm or my leg. She'd lean in. Lower her voice to a whisper so I had to get closer."

"Good moves."

"Yeah." I swallow hard. I don't like her knowing moves. I don't like the implication. "And Vanilla Latte?"

"His friends wanted to play truth or dare."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's so stupid and high school. But I'm not going to be a wet blanket."

"Why not?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not going to be that girl."

"Which girl?"

"The one who can't handle shit."

The light flashes green. I turn left. Keep most of my attention on the road. "What shit is that?"

"You know what I mean."

I shake my head. I don't, but I sure as hell don't like any of my ideas about it.

"You go to parties."

"I did."

"Why'd you stop?" Her voice is vulnerable, not accusatory.

But I still don't know how to answer. "It stopped being fun."

Her brow furrows with confusion. "Do you not want a birthday party?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No." Her lips curl into a smile.

It's only a second, but I still feel it everywhere.

"It's on your actual birthday. After the shop closes. I need people to invite."

"Em, I appreciate that—"

"But?"

"I know you're trying to distract me," I say.

"Why do you care? I didn't fuck anyone. I didn't get arrested. I'm not physically hurt. You can report back to Brendon. Tell him everything is fine."

"It's not about your brother."

She turns to the window. "Whatever."

"We are friends."

She says nothing.

"I care about you."

Still nothing.

"If you're not ready to talk, that's fine. But I need to know you're okay."

She stays silent.

I turn my attention to the road.

Emma turns up the stereo.

A peppy melody fills the car. It should make the silence easier, but it doesn't. It underlines it.

We stay like that for the rest of the road. As I park. As she storms into the house and up the stairs.

Maybe I should give her space.

But I don't.

"Seriously, Hunter, I'm tired. I need to sleep." She steps out of her shoes. Bends to scoop them into her hands.

I stare back at her.

She sighs fine. "I overreacted to something."

"Did he try something?"

"Try something?"

"Touch you?"

"He kissed me, yeah."

The words drop like a thud. They bounce off the white walls and the modern furniture. Echo around the dark, empty house.

Bile rises in my throat.

"Are you jealous or worried?" she asks.

Both. "Did you want him to kiss you?"

"Yeah."

That doesn't make sense.

She's terrified.

Shaking.

"You're right. I drank too much. Got mixed up. That's it." She turns and reaches for her door handle. "Thanks for the ride."

"Em—"

"I'm going to bed."

"If there is something, anything… You can tell me."

"Right."

"We are friends."

"You've only said that three million times now."

"Anything you tell me stays between us."

"How can I trust that?"

"You have my word."

"That's it?"

"It's all I have."

She stops for a second. Considers it. Shakes her head "Good night, Hunter."

Emma steps into her room and slams the door closed.

I stare at the fucking door, trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do here.

She's screaming go away.

But I'm not leaving her terrified.

I'm not leaving her.

I wait in the hallway until her room quiets, then I head to my room.

I try to sleep, but it's no good.

She's the only thing in my brain.

She wants nothing to do with me.

But I'm going to protect her.

Not because Brendon asked.

Or because I owe him.

Or because I owe the fucking universe a karmic debt.

Because I need to know someone's protecting her.