Page 87 of Make Me Mean It

I knock his arm away.

Theo’s arm drops away, and someone knocks into my shoulder, the crowd closing around the space he’d been keeping clear.

I straighten, forcing myself not to react to how much worse that feels.

Theo looks down at me, and whatever excuse I might have found dies when I see his face. His jaw clenches, green eyes searching mine, waiting for an explanation I have no idea how to give him.

I liked having your arm around me too much probably isn’t going to help.

I open my mouth anyway, but Theo’s expression closes before I can get anything out.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, a hollow laugh escaping as he shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

“Theo-”

He’s already turning away.

My hand lifts, reaching for him, fingers curling uselessly into my palm as he pushes between two people, disappearing into the crowd.

I drop onto the nearest stool, dragging a hand through my hair as the noise seems to close in around me again. My chest constricts, and I focus on breathing through it, on the solid edge of the bar beneath my fingers rather than the bodies brushing past behind me.

Theo leans against the counter further down the bar with a drink loose in one hand while he talks to a broad-shouldered blond beside him. I can’t hear whatever Theo says over the music, but the guy laughs and leans closer, and Theo answers with that easy grin of his.

My fingers curl against the edge of the bar.

They’re standing too close, and there’s nothing accidental about it. I recognise the slight angle of Theo’s body now, the curve of his mouth and the way he looks at someone when he’s flirting. I’ve had enough of that attention aimed at me over the last few weeks to know exactly what it looks like when he turns it on someone else.

The blond leans in to say something near his ear, his shoulder brushing Theo’s, and Theo doesn’t move away. If anything, his head tips towards him so he can hear better.

My stomach turns, nausea burning up the back of my throat.

Which is ridiculous.

I told Theo to stop touching me. I’m the reason he walked away in the first place, and now I’m standing here watching him like I have any right to be irritated by what he does afterwards.

Theo can flirt with whoever he wants, and the blond can stand as close as he likes.

I turn back towards the bar and make myself look anywhere else.

A hand brushes my bicep, startling me enough that I jerk back and turn towards the man standing beside me.

He’s big. Not Theo-big, but broader through the shoulders and built heavily enough that he towers over me, making me aware of how little space there is between us. Unease prickles beneath my skin, and I resist the urge to move further away, forcing my feet to stay exactly where they are.

His smile softens as he tilts his head, almost shyly, and some of the tension eases when he shifts back enough to give me a little more room.

“You looked like you could use some company,” he says. “May I?”

I hesitate, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth while I search for a polite way to say no.

My eyes flick over his shoulder, straight to Theo, green eyes already on me.

My pulse stutters against my throat as the easy amusement disappears from Theo’s face, something darker settling into his expression while his gaze moves briefly over the man standing in front of me before coming straight back to mine.

“Uh, sure,” I say hesitantly, gesturing to the stool beside me.

“I’m Darren,” he introduces himself, offering me his hand as he sits, and a quiet laugh escapes me, finding the formality oddly endearing.

“Connor.”