Through the fog and smoke, my favored VIP dais in the middle of the excitement suddenly felt like a center stage.
No.
It was an exhibit, and I was an item on display to be gawked at.
I shot a glare to the side as women approached the roped-off area, trying to talk their way past the security who stood nearby. If it were a month ago, I would’ve had the barrier open. Every lush couch, chair, and high stool in my little section would’ve been filled with a beautiful woman who would laugh, smile, and nod at each word out of my mouth.
But never roll her eyes.
Only Greer did that.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I wasn’t sure why I was so wrapped up in someone I’d known for a week. Especially when those feelings clearly weren’t reciprocated. The only time I’d seen her ruffled was because of someone else.
The lucky prick.
I need to get laid.
It’d been too long since I’d entertained anyone other than my hand. I knew better than to hook up with someone at one of my house parties. I never spent the night with anyone, and kicking them out was always awkward as shit.
Gilded used to offer a nearly endless candy store of whatever perversion I wanted to sample, but it hadn’t packed the same appeal it used to. I was too on edge, never relaxed enough to enjoy anything or anyone. I left feeling empty.
And not just my balls.
With my unintentional dry spell, it was no wonder that one woman—one who was too young for me to begin with—had me all twisted. I just needed to fuck her out of my system.
Easy.
“Tripp! Tripp, over here!”
Fucking hell.
Unlike the main entrance, the discreet exit in the maze of back alleyways was usually empty of waiting paparazzi.
It was apparently my lucky fucking night.
Club security tried to pull me back inside, but I waved them off. The damage was done. The only thing I wanted to do was get the hell out of there.
A dozen men screamed questions at me while recording with their phones. It was pathetic. They used to do us the courtesy of lugging around better quality cameras so we looked our best while they caught us at our worst. Like film cameras, DSLR cameras were a dying medium, and the artistry suffered.
One question managed to cut through the rest of the buzz. “Who’s your new lady friend?”
My mind automatically jumped to Greer, and I wondered if she’d been spotted leaving my house earlier. Or maybe just my party the weekend prior.
But when a hand wrapped around my forearm, I glanced over to see a woman standing close.
I blinked down until she was in focus, though it still took me a second to remember that I’d seen her inside. Unlike the otherwomen, she hadn’t immediately given up when security blocked my section. She’d tried repeatedly to get through.
I respected the persistence, but that was it.
“Did you follow me out here?” Dislodging myself from her hold, I kept a smile on my face and my tone light so the narrative didn’t get twisted into me being a dick.
It wasn’t going to be that easy, though.
The woman grabbed me again and tugged me closer so I could hear her over the yelling. “Don’t you remember me?”
I could walk away right now and forget your face within minutes.
