“Seriously, I don’t want to talk to her.”

Ghost tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down into the bar booth before you make good on your threat to get the hot bartender’s attention.

You’d called him out for staring, and rightfully so; he’s been trying to find distraction in other pretty faces since you got here. Anything to keep him from focusing on you for too long. You’re a friendship he’s not willing to risk.

You press, ask why he’s been staring, and his lips press into a thin line as his restraint falters. His eyes flick to yours finally, searching. A flicker of decision in his gaze.

“Because I don’t know what happens if I keep looking at you.”