I point to the empty seat at the end of the counter. “Did you not hear me say I want to be alone.”

“I did.”  He points to the shot glass. “You gonna let me do a shot all by myself?”

“You would have been doing it all by yourself if I wasn’t here.”

“But you are here,” he points out, oh so helpfully. 

I contemplate irrationally throwing the tequila in his face but that seems a bit too dramatic and wouldn’t really work in my favor. Not only does it show my cards, but it wastes perfectly good alcohol.

Doesn’t mean I can’t work out a deal. 

I tilt my head. “If I do a shot with you will you leave me alone?”

“Probably not.”  He grins.

I think he intends it to be all good-natured and disarming, but it doesn’t come across like that at all. 

Heat kicks up low in my belly.  I shake my head. “You know, I kinda hate you.”

“Oh, I know you do.” He laughs, and it hardens my nipples under the thin cotton of my tank top. 

“I find you annoying.”  I straighten my spine, feeling all justified. Which is probably the liquor. But isn’t that the point in drinking? To justify your actions while you’re in the headspace to not give a shit about the consequences. 

“You don’t say.” He drinks his beer before placing it on the bar and shifting toward me. “What else?”

“You’re infuriating.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” 

I wrinkle my nose. “You think you know everything.”

“Not everything, but most things.”

I’m on a roll now and it feels good to let loose of the reins a little, I’ve been strung too tight for too long. I need to snap a little to find some balance.  “I hate how everyone likes you.”

He flashes that smile at me. “That is frustrating.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Oh my god, stop it.”

“I’m just listening to your list of grievances.” 

“Well, stop it.” 

He picks up his glass and tilts it in my direction. “About that shot.”