"Uh... yes? Yeah." I set my drink down on the nearest table, feeling like I've had enough. "I'm here with my friend. She's talking to..." I wave at her.
"She's talking to Kyle. He's on the Seattle Silverbacks." He leans closer, taking my hand in his. "I am too. Miguel."
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm?—"
A steel band wraps around my waist and yanks me backward. "Nope. She's going home."
I look behind me and…
Oh.
I've definitely attracted Hockey Satan's attention now.
He's holding me against the granite wall of his chest and glaring daggers at Miguel. Miguel looks between us, winks, and turns away. Thorne whips me around, looking incensed.
"What are you doing here?"
I snicker. "Having a good night until you came over. I was meeting new friends!"
Thorne's face reddens. "You're not allowed to make friends with these guys. Soccer players are way worse than hockey players."
Jett, who's appeared at Thorne's side, shrugs at his assessment. "I'd say it's about equal."
"Would you shut it?" Thorne hisses. He leans in close to me. "Let me smell your breath."
"No thanks, Mom." I stick my tongue out at him.
He sneers. "You're drunk."
"Duh. It's a bar?" I wave at our surroundings.
"Are you alone? Or is your friend here?"
I cross my arms. "She's somewhere."
Thorne leans over to Jett and whispers something. Jett nods. "I'll get her home."
"Good." Thorne eyes me. "Come on, we're going."
My jaw drops. "What?? I'm fine!"
"Nope. If Beck saw you like this, he'd carry you out over his shoulder to get you out of here if he had to. So that's what I'm going to do."
"You aren't the boss—" I squeal as Thorne picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of dirt. "Thorne! Put me down!"
Thank god I'm wearing jeans because he ignores me, grunting as he pushes his way through the crowd. He is in a mood.
He doesn’t stop or put me down, even when we’re out of The Secret History. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and indignation. He hauls me down a flight of stairs into a parking garage, then finally comes to a stop at his SUV. Only then does he set me on my feet.
I sway, throwing out a hand to steady myself. "Whoa."
"That's what you get for downing a bunch of tequila," he barks, opening the passenger door for me. "Get in."
"God, it was just a couple shots. You're blowing this way out of proportion."
He steps closer, getting in my space. "Like hell it was. You need to be more careful."
"I don't want to be careful. Maybe I'm tired of being a good girl." I plant my fists on my hips.
