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Time seems to freeze the same way the screen does when Annabel presses pause.
Sloane approaches Killian, and as she goes in to hug him, he slides an arm around her waist.
I feel like he just picked me up and hurled me out the window, and he’s not even looking my way. I’m not even sure he realizes I’m here, and that’s worse because that means what I’m seeing is how he would interact with her if I’m not around and…
I’m going to be sick.
I yank my hand free abruptly and stand, walking as quickly as I can out of the room. My feet die a little with every step because these goddamn heels are so high, and I hear Addison a little angry, reminding Sloane that Kens are not invited to this screening, but I don’t stay to listen to how it goes. I grip the railing and make my way down. If I fall, it won’t even be the worst thing to happen to me today.
I go to the second-floor bathroom because it’s farther away from the other girls, and it’s the one I’m used to. Tears blur my vision as I yank open the door and stumble inside, gripping the edge of the sink so I don’t fall.
“Stupid fucking shoes,” I say, glaring down at them, but it’s not the shoes I’m angry at.
It’s Killian.
Goddamn Killian.
It’s myself for ever liking that asshole.
I knew it was bound to happen, but to rub it in my face like this. To ruin Double Ryan night even more than Sloane already did by showing up.
“He’s such an asshole.”
The door opens behind me, and I turn, startled.
“You know, I’ve heard that about him, too. Stupid fucker.”
My eyes widen as Killian comes in, closing the bathroom door behind him.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
He smirks, his blue eyes twinkling, his appreciative gaze moving over my body in this tight pink dress. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”
“Don’t worry about what I’m wearing,” I say, crossing my arms in a useless attempt to cover up.
“I like it. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just doesn’t seem like you.”
“All my clothes are at your apartment,” I say, my voice cracking under the weight of emotion overload.
“That’s okay,” he murmurs, coming closer. “I like you better naked anyway.”
“Killian,” I say warily, backing up.
“Songbird,” he says, grabbing my hips and backing me up against the counter.
“Don’t call me that anymore. And get your hands off me.”
He doesn’t. “You know,” he says, letting go of my hips, but only so he can slide his hands around and grab my ass, pulling me tightly against him. “I’m getting a little fucking tired of being told what to do.”
I catch a whiff of an unfamiliar scent on his breath. “Have you been drinking?”
“Mm-hmm. Drinking and thinking of you.” He nuzzles his face into my neck, and my heart nearly gives out. “Do you know how fucking much I’ve wanted to touch you, Brynn? It isn’t right to go this long without touching you. It’s unnecessary cruelty.”
Despite my ire and desire to be let go, I can feel his sincerity, so my tone isn’t as mean as I want it to be when I say, “No, it’s a pretty normal part of being engaged to someone else. Now, please take your hands off me before one of Sloane’s little spies follows me in here—”
“Fuck Sloane’s little spies.” He yanks my dress up and I gasp.
“Stop it,” I say, bringing my hands up to push at his chest, but it’s like pushing against a wall.
