His grin broadens against my hand and I withdraw, sitting back down in the chair. “I win,” he says and winks at me.

I shake my head, but smile brightly. “For the record, fucking her and fucking her brains out are pretty much one and the same.”

He covers his mouth with his hand, containing his laughter, because he always seems to think it’s funny when I say the F word. In fact, he blames it on his bad influence on me. “Oh, I completely disagree. A lot more effort goes into fucking someone’s brains out.”

I want to argue with him, but I stop myself, because even though I’ve had a lot of sex, I’ve had a lot of meaningless sex, which doesn’t make me an expert. I’ve often wondered what sex would feel like if I wasn’t high on alcohol and/or pills. Would it feel different? Would I feel different, less worthless, or would I feel more? Would it finally feel good for once? Hot, sweaty, and lip biting? I wonder what it would feel like with Ethan…

I dive into the wings, eating one after another, trying to contain my sex-driven thoughts. Ethan devours the jalapeno poppers and continues to check out the slut at the bar, who’s now noticed him, probably because of his moaning and groaning. She looks interested and he’ll probably go home with her, which is fine. I’ve seen him do it a ton of times.

Ethan finally tears his attention off her and it looks like he wants to say something but is wary about it. I figure he’s probably about to ask if he can go do his thing with her and I prepare myself for the stomach punch I always feel when he does this sort of thing.

He blows out a breath and wisps of his hair flutter to the side of his face. “Did you ever get your rent thing taken care of?” he asks, completely blindsiding me.

“Um… what… oh, yeah I did,” I lie, licking some barbecue sauce off my lip.

He cocks an eyebrow at me with skepticism on his face. “Lila.”

“Don’t Lila me.” I sound whiney and I clear my throat, reaching for a napkin. “Okay, so I haven’t yet, but I’m working on it. I just need to get a job, but they’re really hard to find.”

He hitches a finger over his shoulder, pointing at the bar, where a guy is wiping down glasses with a towel. “They’re hiring here.”

I eye the bar as I wipe the barbecue sauce off my fingers. “Yeah, for a waitress.”

“So?”

“So, I can’t be a waitress.”

“Why? You could end up being good at it.” He inclines forward, resting his arms on the table, and amusement dances in his eyes. “And think of all the tips you’d get if you wore a short, low-cut dress that showed off all your goods.”

I roll my eyes. “You know I don’t dress like that.”

“Well, you could always wear that towel of yours,” he says in a husky voice. “You looked good in that.”

It feels like I’m falling, air gets trapped in my lungs and my heart flutters at the hooded look he’s giving me. I’m about to ask him if he liked the towel, because I would seriously put it on for him right here, right now, when he sputters a laugh.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you.” He scoops up a wing and takes a large bite. “I’d rather you not dress like that out in public.”

I swallow hard, feeling like an idiot. Of course he’s just teasing. He always is. And that’s how it’s supposed to be between us. Just friends. But then what the hell was that hyperventilating, falling-off-the-cliff feeling then? “I knew you were,” I lie, sounding pathetically disappointed and feeling strangely conflicted inside.

His expression falls a little and he forces the bite of chicken down his throat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly okay.” I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear as I lean forward in the chair and dunk a wing into the ranch, biting my tongue hard as I struggle to keep the tears back. Stop it. You don’t ever get upset over a guy like this. Get it together. “I’m just thinking that you’re right and I do need a job, but not here.” My heart is aching inside my chest and I don’t know why, but I feel furious. “And just because I like sex doesn’t mean I’m going to use my body for money.”

“I told you I was just joking about the towel.” His eyebrows lower as he studies me. “I’ve already told you I don’t think of you that way.”

“What way?” I snap, dropping the wing back into the basket. “A slut. An easy lay. A whore.” I hate the word whore. Hate it! But it sums up what I am really well.

He throws up his hands exasperatedly. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just trying to help, but clearly I’m not doing that so I’ll back off.”

“Well, I don’t want your help because I don’t need help.” I shove away from the table, my heart racing. Is it time for another pill yet? I feel like I’m crashing. I wind around the table, picking my purse off the back of my chair, then storm for the exit and shove out the front doors, stepping out onto the street. I start to walk down the busy sidewalk, searching the streets for a cab since I didn’t drive here. I start twisting the platinum ring on my finger as my emotions take over and the need to medicate burns inside me. I know I’m acting ridiculous and probably look nuts because of my abrupt switch in moods. I could try to blame it solely on the fact that I need a pill, but it’s much deeper—like the fact I have so many bills and no money left, that I’m proving my parents right and I can’t take care of myself, that I’m going nowhere with my life and have no idea how to change it. And then there’s Ethan. God damn him for being so sexy. Seriously. I’ve liked him since the first day I met him and it gets harder to be around him when it’s clear he doesn’t want me, at least not how I want him. He just teases me. Plain and simple.

I reach the corner of the sidewalk and look left and right before I step off the curb. The evening sky is cloudy and there’s the faintest scent of rain in the air. I hope it doesn’t start raining because I don’t have a jacket on and I’m wearing opened-toed satin high heels and water will ruin them.

“Lila!” I hear Ethan shout as I reach the other side of the street.

Having no desire to talk to him right now, I pick up the pace. I hear the sound of his footsteps rushing after me, but I only walk quicker, balling my hands into fists, and the platinum ring digs into my skin. I clench them even tighter, hyperaware of the pain as the metal indents into my skin and of each scar on my body, all linked to the damn ring.

“God damn it, Lila.” He’s getting irritated. “Slow the fuck down.”

“Ethan, just leave me alone,” I call out over my shoulder, wrapping my arms around myself. “I’m not in the mood to talk right now.”

The sound of his footsteps get closer as I zigzag around a group of people standing in front of one of the older casinos. “I know you’re not, but that doesn’t mean I should leave you alone walking down the fucking strip by yourself.”

I pause near the street post beside a mob of people waiting to cross and I deliberate if I should turn around. I don’t move as his footsteps arrive beside me, but I don’t turn my head and look at him either.

“Look,” he says, panting. “I have no idea what the hell happened back there, but whatever I did or said to make you mad, I’m sorry.” In the year that I’ve known Ethan, I’ve never heard him give a genuine apology.

With my arms crossed over my chest, I peek over at him, feeling the slightest bit embarrassed over my outburst. Ethan looks sincere, his eyes dark and slightly wide underneath the flashing florescent lights, and his chest is moving rapidly as he works to regain his breath.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” I sigh as uncross my arms. “I’m not mad at you.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Then why the heck did you take off?”

I shrug, shuffling my shoes on the sidewalk. “I don’t know… I guess I’m just feeling a little down lately and I was taking it out on you.” I put my fake, pill-induced game face on and smile at him. “It’s really not a big deal.”