"You don't look the type."
He chuckles and takes his drink as he looks at me, with a smirk curling his lips but his eyes are focused on me. "The type don't look like the type," he says and I smile turning on my chair.
I avoid looking at him because I can't have my tipsy brain thinking about intrusive thoughts about the man. I don't want to look at him and see someone's face instead. That makes me gulp the last remnants of my drink.
"Easy on that, you don't want to have a hangover tomorrow," he cautions but I roll my eyes.
"I think that boat has sailed, don't you think?"
"What are you running away from?" the questions makes me freeze in place, but I don't turn to look at him. But I don't move or even say anything. I will my body to relax and act normal.
