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One minute she was there, the next gone.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
A hand clutched mine, and I turned to see the mystery woman with her sculptured furrowed brows.
“I don’t—”
“Perhaps this will make you remember.”
She clutched my face, stood on her toes and pulled me into a kiss. Although she was a great kisser, it certainly wasn’t ringing any familiar bells. Wrapping my fingers around her tiny wrists, I pulled her hands free.
“I’m sorry,” I said, before once more leaving her side. She was the type not used to rejection. In fact, most would call me insane for walking away.
Wading through the crowd which was now starting to become loose as the tequila shots were passed around every fifteen minutes, I went in search of Britta who had seemingly vanished.
A familiar voice sounded over the music, and I cut a path to Slate who was holding the attention of eight sets of ears as he retold a story. Slate was a natural-born storyteller because he loved being around people. It was where he thrived. Me, on the other hand, gave no fucks about anyone except for those I called family. And he just happened to be one of them.
His attentive crowd broke into hysterics at the joke I just missed, and then they each raised their red cups in cheers. Gripping his upper arm, I pulled him to the side. Slate was still smiling, but when he saw my face, he quickly grew serious.
“What’s up, bro?”
“Did you see where Britta went?”
“No, we parted ways as soon as we walked through the door. She better not have left already.”
“She hasn’t left, she’s with Jarod Thickle.” Even saying his name made me sick at the thought. Jarod was in our circle. He was liked by some and tolerated by many. Jarod still had the mindset of a horny teenage boy who didn’t give a shit who he hurt. He trash-talked women thinking it’d boost his street cred. He’d reveal intimate details about their bodies, and follow it with a laugh none of us saw funny. Seeing him zero in on Britta caused my blood to boil. He knew better than to mess with someone in the circle.
“Jarod?”
“Do you see the issue?”
“He wouldn’t be so stupid.” Slate shrugged his shoulders, always seeing the best in people. I was the complete opposite. “He’s probably just being a good host. But hey, on an interesting note, the redhead—”
Leaving Slate, I pushed through the crowds and headed directly down the hall to the bedrooms.
Pushing the first door open, I saw nothing, but then her soft giggle filtered down the hall and all I had to do was follow. She was leading me straight to her without even trying. I pushed the door open a little harder than intended, and all eyes went to me, including Britta’s older brother, Brock, who was on his phone but had ceased his conversation to look at me.
Brock rarely attended these types of parties, being married with kids. On the bed sat Jarod, who was too close to Britta for comfort, their thighs touching. He nodded his head, eyes narrowed with some warning, and then turned back to Britta, unwilling to lose the traction he’d made. While he chose to ignore my presence, Britta was finding it hard to do so. Her eyes were locked on mine, unsure on how to read me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she even made a discreet effort to break contact with Jarod. When she moved, so did he, bridging the gap. His persistence, and knowing his dirty history, had my fists clenching at my sides. I’d be damned if I let him sink his filthy teeth into her.
“Hawk!” My attention was pulled to Brock who placed his cell in his pocket, a wide smile across his face. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time. It was Slate who I now seemed to see the most, considering he was always at the office to see his sister.
Brock walked over and shook my hand, with a pat on the back. “Good to see you, bro,” he said, walking through the door expecting me to follow. I didn’t. Instead, I watched Britta who was still staring at me.
“Slate wants you, Brit.” It was a lie, and she knew it.
She shook her head and turned back to Jarod. “I’ll be down when I’m ready,” was all she said in response. I saw a smirk on Jarod’s face, and I wanted to literally punch it right off.
Brock slapped my back and pulled me slightly out the door.
“She’s smarter than you think,” he started. “I wouldn’t worry about Jarod. But I’d have to be an idiot not to see the way you two watch each other.”
“What shit are you talking?” I asked with my jaw clenched as I walked back down the hall.
