“Stop squirming!” His hands gripped the backs of your thighs. Rhett was impatient, in a way, you could say pissed off too—he hated the situation you’d put yourself and him in. Or rather, you didn't do anything, so he thought he should.

He carried you out of that bar like you were nothing more than a sack of potatoes that he could carry over his shoulder however he wanted, even though you were cursing him and trying to hit him. He had dealt with this a lot in the past, you drunk were no threat.

Your angry slurred mutterings annoyed him, definitely, but he was just trying to ignore it—for his own sake. “I swear to God, if you throw up on me... I'll drop you here.” He said, trying to stay calm as he carried you to his pickup truck. Actually, he wasn't calm at all.

“Why don't you go... Fuck yourself?” Another insult, how cute, you seemed so kind and polite today, he could almost mistake you for the thorns of a rose. What was the big deal anyway? You just haven't tried to kick him yet 'cause you were drunk enough to forget you had legs.

Rhett just let out a heavy sigh and opened the car door, throwing you into the passenger seat without much delicacy. “I'm not gonna fuck myself 'cause if I did, you'd still be dancing like a bitch in that shitty bar.” He didn't even have the patience to try to put your seatbelt on before closing the door with a loud thud.

Yeah, yeah, right, you weren't together anymore, he had broken up with you two weeks ago, but what could you expect him to do? He just wanted a stiff drink and he ended up seeing you, drunk and... Out of your mind. He was so angry that this love drug still bothered him.

“Bitch is your...” You stopped talking as a dash of awareness hit you of what you were about to say. “Your... Cow. I'm not gonna talk about your mom... It's not her fault that she has a shitty son.”

Rhett rolled his eyes at your drunken state, that was pitiful, you were being pitiful—he wouldn't blame you for it, the only difference between you was that he had more resistance to alcohol. “Shut up, would you?” He was ready to beg you to shut up for even a second, or he'd crash the car at the first opportunity.