“Get away from me, you man-whore.”
I raise my hands in relief. “Hey, I’m the one trying to getyouaway fromme, so take that pretty ass of yours and walk it out my door.”
Her slap comes out of nowhere, cracking me across the cheek with a sting that burns.
I go still, keeping my head to the side when she leans down and hisses, “You need therapy, youfuckingpsycho!”
And then she finally turns and storms away.
Thank God for that.
My eyes dart her way as she weaves through the crowd, shoving people aside in her rage.
I suck in a breath through my nose, fighting my own anger.
I don’t need fucking therapy!
And I’m pissed off that I made things abundantly clear before I stuck my dick inside her, but she just wouldn’t accept the terms we agreed to.
She said it was just a little fun.
Didn’t she consent to that?
AndI’mthe “fucking psycho”? She’s the one who needs therapy!
Standing up, I move through the party, antsy and restless.
I need to do something to expel this feeling inside me. I don’t like it. I hate this itching. It’s like there are ants crawling all over my skin.
Scratching my chest, I scan the crowd, needing to do something to unleash. Something that doesn’t involve pussy or female drama.
And I don’t want to get high right now. I want a different kind of buzz.
With a growl, I head for the stairs, taking them two at a time while I try to shake this sensation I hate so much. I don’t know why this comes over me. I don’t even know what it is.
All I know is that I need to do something wild, dangerous, reckless. I need an injection of adrenaline to pour through me and wash away this ugly, black feeling in my chest.
28
CHARLI
Beer pong is done,and I’m now thoroughly buzzed. I don’t normally get this drunk two nights in a row, but I guess thisweekend is an exception. A fun exception with some kind of purpose that I can’t quite remember right now.
All I know is that Sawyer is funny and beer tastes delicious after you’ve had enough of it.
People aren’t blurry yet, but my limbs are liquid and this happy buzz is traveling through my veins.
I want to dance, but I can’t hear music anymore. All I can hear is laughter and shouts and people talking. It’s a hot, fuzzy mess as I follow Sawyer outside for some fresh air.
He leans against the railing, catching my arm when I stumble in front of him.
“You’re such a lightweight.”
“No, I’m not.” I laugh, resting my back against the wooden rail beside him and staring up at his face, which, okay, is just a touch out of focus. Shit, I’m gonna have a headache in the morning. “I need water.” At least I’m coherent enough to realize that.
“Coming right up, Chuck.”
“Upchuck.” I cackle, the sound deep and weird.
