Plus, the wholesome charm of catching up with guys who had teenage hormonal acne at the same time as me is really what this trip has been about.
Still, the woman—whose name I keep forgetting—continues to talk and run her nails up and down my spine. All flags are green. It’s a slam dunk. A home run. And a younger me would have been all over this opportunity, but at thirty years old, I’m shocked to find myself… bored.
Which is why I end up looking back over at Julia Silva, who appears to be having a grand old time chatting up the same group of guys.
She’s turned to one of the men, away from the table where her drink still sits, though her hand stays wrapped around it. My gaze snaps to the one who has been eagerly edging closer to her all night. He watches her raptly, the hand shoved in his pocket moving as if he’s playing with something inside. His eyes only leave her to look at the drink in her hand.
Once. Twice. Three times.
He practically bounces on the balls of his feet as he watches. All while his hand continues to fidget in his pocket.
I’ve spent a lifetime watching out for strange body language like this. I used to think my dad would fly off the handle at the drop of a hat, but that was before I learned what to look for.
Small signals that he was agitated. A smirk that was only a cover for the cruel twinkle in his eye. He never laid a hand on me—he didn’t need to. Fucked me up with his words and head games just fine.
My chin tilts as I assess the man across the bar. Something feels off about his behavior—an anxious edge, a deliberate watchfulness.
Julia stumbles backward, wobbling on her feet, and I swear he anticipates it. Like her clumsiness isn’t a surprise to him at all.
He props her up and sweeps a loose piece of hair from her face to whisper something in her ear before dragging his lips over the slope of her neck. She laughs in response, hitting him with a look that isn’t hard to read.
Then he reaches for her wrist, lifting her hand with the cocktail, urging her to take another drink.
She lifts the drink and takes a sip with a woozy smile, and as she does, one of the other men subtly nudges his chin at his friend.
My stomach drops. Hard, fast, sizzling with nervous heat as I realize what I’m watching play out. You spend enough time on the road, living in hotels and partying in scuzzy bars and you see it all. The best of people. But more often than not, the worst of people.
Julia doesn’t look like she even realizes what’s going on, but the guys she’s with areveryaware.
Suddenly, I’m infinitely more sober.
I shake the redhead’s hand off, shoot off my stool, and storm away from my table without a single word. My pace quickens as I weave my way through the pack of writhing bodies towardJulia’s table. By the time I get there, Sleazebag number one is practically holding her upright.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t even stop to think. Swooping in beside her, I wrap my arm around her lower back and grip her hip with my other hand, pulling her into me. Her hands splay against my bare pecs as I reach around and give the guy one hard shove in the middle of his chest.
“What the fuck?” he shouts as he spills his drink and struggles to regain his footing.
The group of people surrounding us goes still, all gawking as the music blares on.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” the guy says, stepping closer as he shakes soda from his arms. He looks like a frat boy Dracula with his dark slicked-back hair, feline features, and eyes nearly black with indignant fury.
“Ruining your plans, you piece of shit,” I reply, tugging Julia closer to me as I step back and away from the group of guys. Her head lolls, neck almost boneless as she struggles to look up at me.
I tip my chin down to inspect her.
“Nooo,” is her first slurred word in my direction. Followed by, “You fucking suck.”
She sounds like she’s got a mouth full of rocks, and her body grows heavier by the second as her forehead crashes against my sternum, losing its battle with gravity.
“I know,” I mutter under my breath, though I doubt she can hear me. I might suck, but not as much as this guy does. And I’d suck a lot more if I didn’t step in to help her.
Turning my attention back toward the wall of dude-bros in front of me, I arch a brow.
Vampire guy steps closer, like he’s going to do something about it. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He moves toward me likeI’mthe problem and he’s got the solution.
But you don’t spend your entire life being a scrappy, unlikable shit-disturber to not have a plan.
And I do have one.
