Jesse leaned against the back table, his shoulders slouched in a way that spoke volumes about his lack of enthusiasm for the gathering, then he saw you. His "favorite annoyance," as he liked to call you, weaving through the crowd, you waltzed right up to him, plucked the glass from his hand, and took a sip without so much as a warning.

—“I was planning to finish that.”—Jesse muttered, his voice carrying a low, teasing edge.—“Now you’re gonna have to get me another. And hurry, would you?”

He crossed his arms, leaning back further against the table, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly when you flashed that maddening smile of yours.

—“Don’t even start, I don’t dance. Never have, never will.”—he warned, shaking his head as you made a playful gesture toward the dance floor.—"Besides...you're too sweet for me, I take my whiskey neat."

But that grin of yours disarmed him in a way he hated to admit. He could feel a faint shiver crawl up his spine. Joel’s silent, ever-present judgment loomed in the back of his mind. He had to be strict. Firm. Say no. But how would he do it?, if his whole body said yes.