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“I like your dress,” the blond guy dancing behind me says with his lips against my ear. “It’s very sexy.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a smile over my shoulder at the compliment. It’s the same white dress I wore to dinner. Lochlan seemed to like it too.
The stranger grabs my hips to spin me around so I’m facing him but doesn’t let go.
“What’s your name?” he asks, again, leaning close enough for his bristly cheek to brush mine so I can hear him over the music.
“Sophie. Yours?”
“Austin.”
“Austin?” I repeat. “Like the city?”
“Just like the city,” he agrees with a smile.
We talk about ourselves in short sentences that are practically screamed in each other’s ears. Austin goes to college in California, is a marketing major, and came to Vegas for the weekend with some friends in his fraternity.
I tell him I live in Vegas, like to play tennis, but don’t mention that I’m supposed to be getting married tomorrow. After tonight, maybe I won’t be. I honestly don’t know what I want. I’m so confused, and my head is all over the place. This is all too much, too fast. What the hell was I thinking? Just because I was lonely and bored, I agreed to marry a stranger with a teasing knife?
Austin sips from his drink while we dance, an amber liquid.
“Want to try it?” he asks when he notices me eyeing the glass.
“I’m only eighteen,” I admit.
“I won’t tell the Alcoholic Beverage Control police, if you won’t,” he says with a smirk. “Open up!”
It takes me a second to realize he means to give me a sip, so with a quick glance to make sure Vanessa isn’t looking, I obey his command, parting my lips and letting him pour the liquid into my mouth. Not just one sip, but the entire rest of the glass. The bitter taste burns my tongue, and all the way down my throat, making me shiver. Even my nose feels scalded.
“Not a fan of Fireball?” Austin asks with a chuckle.
“It’s okay,” I lie.
“Then how about a refill?”
Ten minutes later, another glass of Fireball, and everything Austin says is hilarious. It’s also funny that I keep sliding off my stool at the bar.
“I think I’m drunk!” I say before I spot Vanessa coming toward us. “Shh, don’t tell my stepmom.”
Austin mimes zipping his smirking lips and throwing away the key.
“Hey, Soph. You doing okay over here?”
“Yes.” I blink at her a few times until my vision clears. “Perfectly fine.”
“Okay. Good.” She glances between me and Austin. “I’m going to sit out a song or two. You know where to find me,” she adds, pointing toward the table in the corner.
“Got it. Thanks,” I tell her cheerfully.
Once she walks away, Austin grabs a thick strand of my hair. Wrapping it around his fist he pulls my face to his. “You came to a club with your stepmother?”
“Yes. She’s cool. I don’t have many friends,” I admit, which is a lie. I have zero.
“I’ll be your friend,” Austin says before his lips slant over mine. When he pulls way, he says, “Mmm. You taste like cinnamon.”
“It’s the drink,” I assure him.
“I know. How about another?” I may be tipsy, but it sounds like he’s enthusiastically encouraging me to drink, knowing I’m underage. The liquor is so much stronger than the wine I’ve had at dinner.
