Page 86 of Make Me Mean It

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CONNOR

Awall of heat and sound hits me the second we push through the door, bass thrumming through the floor and straight up my spine, voices overlapping into a dull roar that makes my head spin.

I falter just inside the threshold, regretting every decision that led me here.

My gaze slips back over my shoulder toward the door, but there are already bodies spilling in behind us, crowding the entrance and cutting off what had been a perfectly good escape route about three seconds ago.

Hot breath brushes over my ear, locking every muscle in my shoulders before I register Theo leaning in beside me.

“Regretting it yet?” he hums.

“What?” I snap, because there are far too many things he could be asking me that question about.

Yesterday flashes hot through me and my stomach knots.

Is that what he means? Is he actually going to bring it up here, now, surrounded by half the team? Or does he mean me changing my mind the second I realised he was going out, because I’m fairly certain he noticed that too.

Theo lifts a brow at whatever the hell he sees on my face, then spreads his hands loosely around us, taking in the packed bar, flashing lights and bodies pressing in from every direction.

Not exactly your scene,” he chuckles.

I drag in a breath, irritation replacing the panic that had no business being there in the first place.

Someone shoves past us, forcing Theo closer until his hip knocks against mine and his mouth ends up near my ear again.

“You look like you’re about two seconds from bolting.”

I shove my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, curling my fingers against the denim.

“I’m fine.”

A woman stumbles into me from the side before I’ve even finished saying it.

I flinch away, my stomach tightening at the unexpected contact, but warm fingers find the small of my back before I can fully recoil.

Theo’s touch is light, a steady pressure that floods me with more relief than I can stomach.

He guides me closer until I’m plastered against his side, his body slotting between me and the worst of the crowd. People seem to move for him in a way they don’t for anyone else, and Theo takes advantage of it, carving a path through them with me tucked into the space beside him.

I hate how quickly my shoulders loosen, how easy it is to let him do it. Theo’s solid at my side, taking the worst of the bodies pressing past us, and I lean into him.

Barely an inch.

“Sure you are, princess,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

I almost smile.

Then someone brushes past Marcus in front of us, his head turning briefly in our direction, and my stomach drops.

Theo’s arm is around me.

I’m leaning into him.

Fuck.

“Stop touching me.”