Lead Me On. Lauren Hawkeye

down my spine, sticky and hot—sweat from stress, arousal and the heat of the bar packed with hormone-riddled human flesh

      “I’ve never had a pink drink.” Oh, great. I was a reasonably intelligent woman, and that’s what I came up with? The drink probably wasn’t for me, anyways. If I hadn’t known without a doubt that smacking myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand was not socially acceptable, I would have done it, and deserved it.

      But Red didn’t seem to mind. He grinned, revealing teeth saved from being perfect by one slightly crooked eyetooth that I wanted to run my tongue over. Handing me the glass with the aforementioned pink drink, he seemed…entertained?

      Like he thought I was cute or something. Huh.

      I knew better.

      “I guessed you’d be a wine drinker, but the wine here tastes like horse piss. This at least has juice. Can’t be that bad. And you looked like you needed it.”

      My brow furrowed as I accepted the drink. Did I really look that bad?

      If I did, why was he here?

      “You don’t remember me at all, do you?” I gulped a searing mouthful of vodka-laced liquid at the question, somewhat astounded. I knew I’d remember this man if I’d ever met him before. He was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.

      How insulting to him. No, not really, because he had to have been mistaken.

      “Oh, come on Linda.” He reached out to toy with my fingers playfully…flirtatiously? Familiarly? “Sophomore year for you and Suze? Her cousin Eric came to party on campus and crash for the weekend?”