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“Oh, I can say it, and I’m pretty sure you’ve heard me say worse.”

“True, but I think it’s fucking hilarious that you’renotsaying it now. Also I kinda want to hear you say it.”

“Dick and vagina.”

His eyes meet mine, amusement flickers in them. “Or cock and pussy.”

The way he says cock and pussy makes my stomach clench. Straight up fucking clench. It’s damn near fucking erotic sounding. My heart pounds, fluttering in my chest. Clearing my throat, I say, “Or… muff and wang.”

He shakes his head and lifts his drink to his lips casually but grins. “That’s the name of a porno I watched once.”

“Really?”

He holds up his hand, a smile lingering in his eyes. “No… not really, but it totally should be.”

Why are you so fucking adorable?

“Enough about me. I told you why I’m here so now it’s your turn. Spill. What’s with you and Berkley?” Of course I asked that. For the last six years Tyler has dated one girl. Berkley Logan. And it ended suddenly about a month ago. In the first few years it was clear they had an open relationship, but then they settled down for the last two years and seemed happy. Not so much anymore.

“Next question.” Smirking, he tries to get away with that answer.

Not happening.

“Nope. Answer me.”

Tyler leans back slightly and runs a hand over his face before staring up at the television screen playing highlights of the baseball game. “I don’t fucking know. Never gave me a direct answer.”

“Relationships suck.”

He holds up his drink. “I’ll fuckin’ drink to that.”

And we do. Three shots to be exact. Each.

And then comes a little truth. “I came home one day and she had moved out,” he finally tells me after his fourth shot. “Said she needed to find herself.”

“Bullshit!” I yell, entirely too loud.

“Right?” He nods and then his gaze drops to the shot glass he’s flipping over in his hand now. “Four fucking years.”

I laugh. “I thought it was six.”

“I don’t fucking know.” He snorts and drops his head in his hands. “Maybe that’s where I went wrong.”

“Maybe.”

I lay my arm on his shoulder. “We’re a mess.”

“Hot mess.”

He winks and then drags his eyes south. “Hotis an understatement.”

I wish he’d drag his mouth over mine!

Good thing I’m sitting or I’d drop to my knees at that look.

THE NEXT THREE hours are a blur. A fucking blur. I keep switching between the whiskey and those delicious mixes Zack should be arrested for serving me to the point that I dance on the bar with Tyler. Considering my vision’s blurred, I have no balance and poor motor skills but I’m still standing and doing pretty good.

When I’m drunk I can’t feel my lips. It’s also a general assessment that they won’t work either. Clearly.