Page 89 of Make Me Mean It

Theo barely raises his voice, forcing Darren to lean back slightly to look at him. The colour drains from Darren’s face, his lips parting as his eyes dart towards the drink beneath Theo’s hand before snapping back up.

“Whoa, man,” he says, holding a hand up.

“Did you not fucking hear him?” Theo snaps, shoving into Darren’s space, putting himself directly between us until the broad line of his back fills my vision and Darren disappears behind him. “He’s not interested.”

“Theo,” I try, but he ignores me, shoving the drink further down the bar, out of my reach.

“You thought what?” he snaps, taking another step towards Darren. “You’d just slip something in his drink? Make him change his mind?”

My gaze drops to the glass, Theo’s accusation sitting strangely against the completely ordinary drink on the bar in front of me.

Darren looks almost as stunned as I feel. “Dude, it’s literally just a drink.”

Theo lets out a laugh completely devoid of any humour. “Then drink it.”

A cold, uneasy feeling starts curling beneath my ribs, my eyes dropping back to the drink.

It looks exactly the same as it did thirty seconds ago. Ice floating near the surface. Condensation running down the side. Nothing that explains why Theo crossed the entire bar to knock it out of my hand.

It’s just a drink.

One I was about to swallow.

The conversations nearest us are starting to die away, people turning towards the tension at the bar, and somewhere behind me I hear Marcus say Theo’s name.

“Stop it,” I bite out, grabbing Theo’s arm and pulling, my fingers digging into his bicep. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He jerks free, making me stumble sideways, and by the time I right myself, his fist is already bunched in the front of Darren’s shirt.

Theo hauls him forward, glasses jumping against the counter.

“Drink it,” he growls, pushing the glass towards Darren.

“Jesus Christ.” Darren’s hand shoots out, knocking the glass farther away as he tries to put space between himself and Theo. “I didn’t put anything in it!”

My eyes follow the glass as Darren shoves it away, unease crawling deeper beneath my skin when his hand immediately retreats with it. For someone insisting there’s nothing wrong with the drink, he seems pretty fucking determined not to drink it himself.

The sight of Darren pushing the glass away drags something back from earlier. His hand closing over the top when someone squeezed past us, fingers spread across the rim while he moved it out of the way. I hadn’t thought anything of it. I’d barely even noticed because I’d been too busy watching Theo across the fucking bar.

My stomach turns as I look at the drink again

“Theo, enough,” I manage to snap, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth, everything feeling too much.

Theo freezes, his body rigid as he turns to face me, fury carved into every line of his face, but it’s the look in his eyes I’m not prepared for.

Fear.

My fingers close around his forearm, and this time he doesn’t pull away. My thumb sweeps over the inside of his wrist, feeling the hammering of his pulse.

“Theo,” I say again, his eyes falling to where I’m holding him before lifting back to my face, some of the violence in his grip easing.

Darren tries to wrench himself free, and Theo shrugs me off, his attention snapping straight back to him.

“You’re a piece of shit,” he snarls, slamming Darren against the bar.

I can’t seem to look anywhere except Theo, the rigid line of his shoulders and his fist in Darren’s shirt, the tendons standing in his forearm as he holds him there.

“Enough, Theo,” I snap, and Theo tears his hand away with a low growl, his nostrils flaring.