One girl slips her phone number into my hand after a minute of nonsensical small talk. Another girl dragged her nails down my forearm, telling me how good she would be in bed. And another girl grinded herself into me and called me a prick when I politely asked her to stop.
I can't even entertain it. Not when she’s there. Dancing likethat. How is she managing to dance with a messed up ankle? Beats me. But she’s not acting like she’s hurt. Maybe she made the whole thing up.
One of the guys in navy dress pants and a white button down that’s untucked, comes up behind her. She’s minding her business, dancing, and feeling the music. He places his hands on her waist, pulling her back into him, her ass right in his lap.
God, this is worse than the other night at the bar. It gets from worse to fucking unbearable when she opens her eyes, glancing at him for a second before smiling that sly smile that no doubt signals to him that she’s thinking about doing more than just dancing with him.
I can’t place what it is that comes over me when I see her like that. Before getting to know her, I wouldn’t care, but being around her more often these last few days, I don’t believe this confident act that she puts on for a second. I can tell on the inside she’s scared, which is why she’s acting out and doing dumb shit like this.
I watch painfully as she grinds her ass into him as he kisses her neck.
No. Not happening.
I storm over, reaching them in a few seconds. They must be caught in some lusty daze because neither of them sees me approaching. Hell, Scarlett’s eyes are still closed. The guy looks drunk or high, or both as he stares at me, still moving against her.
“Are you done?” I ask her.
Her eyes open then. For a second they're filled with surprise until they soften, showing me that she’s enjoying pissing off. If that’s what her aim for this whole thing was, it’s working.
“What do you think?” she asks, slurring as her eyes wander around my face.She smirks as she purposefully grinds her ass into the dude behind her. My cock aches at the motion, causing me to groan.
“You’re done,” I say to her, gripping onto her forearms and pulling her away from him and then into me. She melts into me almost instantly, her warm body pressing against mine. “Dance with me.”
“Why?”
“Because maybe if I soften you up, you’llfinallylet me take you home,” I say and her eyebrows crease. She looks like a little bunny like this: her eyes filled with wonder and curiosity, her nose a little red and her cheeks flushed. Honestly, it’s adorable. “You’re drunk.”
She shakes her head. I can tell it gives her a headache from the way she shuts her eyes for a few seconds. “I’m sober enough to know I don't want to dance with you.”
“Then let’s skip the dancing and I’ll take you home. There’s no way you're driving your car and it’s dangerous to get an Uber at this time. Please, Scarlett,” I say, practically begging. If anything happened to her…God, I don’t even want to think about it. She mumbles something about how she can’t catch a break. I pull apart from her to lift her chin up with two fingers, urging her to look up at me. “Speak up, sweetheart.”
She groans. “I said,fine. It’s the least you can do after messing up my shoes, my dress,andmy hair.”
“You’re the one whoinsistedon coming straight here,” I argue.
“Yes, because why would I want to stay at home all night and sulk? Life is way too fucking short for that.”
I snort. “Since when were you such a party girl?” I’m genuinely curious, but she doesn’t answer me, as always. Instead, she answers my question with a question of her own.
“Since when were you such a dick? Oh, wait. You always have been.”
“That’s not true,” I mutter.
I’m sick of this back and forth.
When will she finally see the kind of person I really am and not the facade that she makes of me every day? If me giving her a piggyback, tending to her ankle and driving her here wasn’t enough of a clue that I actually care about her in some fucked up way, I don’t know what is.
She presses two fingers under my chin, titling my head up.
“Speak up, sweetheart,” she mocks.
“Forget it. Just get in the car,” I demand.
Scarlett
Today has been one clusterfuck of a day and I'm ready for it to be over with. I can deal with a little bit of rain. That’s fine. I can deal with Evan seeing me as messy and as gross as ever. Not my favourite thing, but bearable. I can deal with getting a little drunk and Evan being strangely nice enough to offer to take me back home.
What Ican’tdeal with is the clamp on my wheel becausesomebodydecided to park in the wrong spot. My poorBellezza Neradoesn’t deserve this. We’re both standing at the curb, staring at it, hoping that blinking will make it disappear. But it doesn’t.
