Her lips press into a tight line. “It’s only one drink,” she says, holding the cup out to me. A guy crashes into her back and she stumbles forward, her drink spilling down my front. Sonova— My nostrils flare as I stare down at my now beer-soaked shirt.
“I am so sorry,” she rushes to say. Sarah sets her now empty cup down and hands me a wad of paper towels. I blot at the mess but it’s not going to make a lick of difference. The whole fucking cup caught me.
“Great. I’m going to smell like the beer the rest of the night.” Maybe I can convince Bibiana to take a shower with me. I know Monique is keeping Luis for the night and she was going to stay the night at Allie’s but maybe we can change that.
Sarah’s eyes brighten. “I think I have one of your shirts.” She looks away with a shrug. “I mean, if you want it back that is.”
My brows pull together and I cock my head to the side, not sure if I believe her or if this is some game she’s playing. I don’t remember leaving clothes here, but I mean, I guess I could have left a beater or hoodie or something like that.
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t act so suspicious. I’m pretty sure you left one here from one of the nights you stayed over. It’s upstairs.” She heads for the staircase and yet again, I’m forced to follow. But honestly, what choice do I have? While the prospect of convincing Bibiana to take a shower with me is promising, I don’t want to wear Sarah’s drink for the next thirty minutes or however long it takes for me to find her and then get home.
We make our way upstairs and I stand in the middle of her room as she rummages through her drawers. “Take off your shirt and you can throw it in there if you want.” She points toward a laundry basket in the corner. “I’ll wash it and bring it to school on Monday.”
I hesitate and she huffs out a breath. “Emilio, you’re being stupid. I get it. You’re seeing someone.”
Fine. I peel the shirt off, tossing it in the hamper before moving past her and stepping through the open doorway of her bathroom. I wet a rag and run it over my chest and abs to get off some of the lingering beer off before walking back out into her room.
“Shirt?” I ask.
She holds up a black shirt I vaguely recognize and saunters my way, a little extra swing in her step. And here we go. She places the shirt in my hand, but a second after I accept it, she tosses her arms around my neck and stares up at me, longing in her gaze. Fuck. Her eyes have that glazed look too that says she’s probably had one too many drinks herself and is about to do something stupid.
“Sarah—” I warn.
“Come on, Emilio. Weren’t we good together?” Her voice is breathy, more of her wannabe porn-star shit and I am not in the mood. “Why don’t we have one last round together? For old time’s sake,” she purrs. “I’ll make it good for you.”
“I’m seeing someone,” I remind her, grinding my teeth together. I hold myself back from shoving her off me which is exactly what I want to do, and instead grip her arms with near bruising force to keep her from climbing my body like I’m a goddamn tree. The feel of her hands on my chest makes me shiver, and not in a good way. I hate the press of her body against mine. It’s just… wrong.
Despite my hold on her, she still leans up on tiptoe and presses her lips to my neck, her teeth grazing the column of my throat. “I don’t mind sharing anymore,” she whispers. “I miss you.”
I’ve had enough. Fuck the shirt. Fuck this shit. I don’t want her or anyone else that isn’t my girl touching me.
“Sarah—” I growl, but the creak of the door stops me from finishing the sentence as my eyes meet twin pools of anguished blue. “Hey ma—”
She doesn’t wait for me to finish. She bolts from the hallway, her slender legs taking her quickly from sight as I shove past Sarah and chase after her. “Bibiana, wait!” I shout after her, but she doesn’t stop. Fuck.
I lose sight of her raven-colored hair in the sea of people when we make it to the main part of the house. Shit. Where is she?
I scan the crowd, calling out her name. Several heads turn in my direction—none of whom are her—but I don’t give a fuck what people think. I need to find my girl. What she thinks happened didn’t and I don’t want her worried for even a second longer than she needs to be. Allie is the one who drove so she can’t go far on her own. That’s the one thing I’ve got going for me right now.
I pull out my phone, firing off a quick text message and praying she takes the time to read it.
Me: It’s not what it looked like. Let me explain.
I stare at the screen for several seconds, willing her to respond.
She doesn’t. Shirt still in my hand I throw it on over my head and scan the room again, spotting baby Henderson surrounded by a circle of seniors. Motherfucker. What is she thinking? I make a beeline for her and move to drag her away from her admirers. One of them steps forward to object—some asswipe I recognize from the school’s basketball team—but it only takes a second for him to realize who the fuck I am, and he immediately backs off. “Sorry, man. I didn’t realize Kasey was Devil property.”
“She’s not.” Kasey tries to wriggle away but I tighten my grip. “But she is my friend’s baby sister and she’s fourteen. Which makes her too fucking young for you to get your dick wet with.” He drops his head, a chastised look on his face. Good. These fuckers need to stop trying to rob fucking cradles.
“Emilio, knock it off,” she snaps.
I ignore her, shoving her toward the front door with my hand on the center of her back. “I do not have time for your shit, Kasey. I need you to help me find Bibiana.”
She stops struggling and whirls around to face me. “What did you do?” she asks, hands on her hips.
“Nothing.” I bite out. “Sarah threw herself at me, but nothing happened. Bibiana doesn’t know what she saw.”
Her eyes narrow. “I swear to god if you—“
