“Your brother decided not to wait for the drink result before losing his mind,” Marcus muttered and then shrugged. “Can’t say I blame him, though. That fucker is putting shit into drinks in the Hellions’ dorm? Throw him off the fucking roof and put the music back on!” he called to someone near the speakers.
The party resumed, with a lot of whispering and glances at Nick and Brody.
“Well, I’d say it might be pretty clear to everyone that something is going on between you two,” Winter murmured and raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you okay with that?”
“No, of course not. We’re—my mom…” I blew out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agreed and then gave me a small smile. “And it’s not, at the same time.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I don’t care about your mom. I care aboutyou. So, I’m Team Fuck It on this one.” She peeked over my shoulder. “Let’s go downstairs where nobody just saw all of that. I think Eve and Lily are here. I want to hear all about the play, too.”
She looped her arm through mine and we headed downstairs.
I glanced back, but I couldn’t see Brody in the sea of bodies.
An hour later, I was relaxed and warm and suffused with female energy. Despite that solid, safe feeling, intrusive thoughts kept popping up.
Has Officer Preston shown Nick the video or just told him about it? Does he have a copy? Who else has seen?
I tried my best to shove the thoughts deep down inside, but the lid on the box of my worst fears wouldn’t stay closed, and they kept spilling out.
The party had settled into a slower tempo. People danced in the middle of the room. Eve stood and stretched.
“Shall we dance? I have all this nervous energy,” she said.
“I can help you with that,” Beckett purred, looming behind her.
“Really?” She smiled at him and took his outstretched hand.
He pulled her toward the dance floor and called out to the DJ, his voice carrying easily over the din.
“Put something slow on. My lady wants to dance.”
A few whistles went up around the room as the music changed to something slow and sinuous. People shifted from groups of friends dancing together, to couples.
One by one, the girls drifted away to dance with their significant others. Winter was the last to go, handing me a half-full bottle of beer to look after as she went.
I eyed it, my mouth suddenly so dry I couldn’t think about anything other than taking a drink. My thirst for alcohol went hand in hand with the racing, dark worries I couldn’t seem to ignore tonight. I’d been doing so well, but tonight, my self-discipline had run out. I needed something to take the edge off.
I put the bottle to my lips and was about to tip it back when a tattooed hand closed around mine.
“Don’t. You’ll regret it tomorrow.” Brody pried the bottle from my hand.
I glanced up at him. It felt weird to talk after what had happened upstairs. He’d called me sweetheart in front of everyone. He’d punched Nick out. He’d protected my honor. Ha, what a joke. Like I had any. But somehow, Brody seemed to think I did.
I gave a long, soul-tired sigh at his relentless discipline. “I can’t be in my own head right now. Please, have mercy.”
“If you can’t be in your own head…” He held his hand out to me.
I cautiously took it, not sure what he planned.
He helped me to my feet and then backed us toward the dance floor.
“Come and be in mine. You’ll be distracted quick enough,” he whispered.
We moved among the couples, getting lost somewhere in the middle. Brody wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. The press of other people forced us closer together. His hands rested firmly on my waist. It felt more intimate than it should.
