I leaned against the edge of the bar, staring at Noah like he owed me answers… or maybe I just liked watching the way his lips moved when he tried to explain himself.
He looked at me, eyes glassy, cheeks pink, like he was caught red-handed.
Then...Tada!...he pulled out a half-empty bottle of wine from behind his back like it was a magic trick.
“Here,” he said with a goofy smile, voice thick with a drunken slur. “This is what I’m hiding.”
He laughed, more like giggled, and for a second, I froze. What the hell was that? That wasn’t just tipsy behavior. That was... dangerously adorable.
I walked over, snatched the bottle from his hand, and moved it out of reach. He groaned, reaching for it like a toddler wanting candy.
"Mine," he whined.
“Nope.” I sidestepped.
He lost balance and tumb
