Page 2 of Out of Place

I look around for Serena and find her making out with some guy on the dance floor a few feet away.

I smile. “There she is.” I point in her direction and then yell, “Get it, girl!”

She shoots me a middle finger, and my head tips back in laughter.

“Well, I think you’ve had enough,” Brad-Mason informs me.

I laugh. “’Scuse me? Who do you think you are? If you don’t wanna get a drink with me, leave.”

He puts his hands up in defense and takes a few steps away before he turns and blends back into the crowd.

“Pussy,” I whisper to no one in particular.

I stumble back to the bar and lean on top of it to get the bartender’s attention.

“Bartender!” I yell. The guy looks at me and shakes his head. “Come on.”

“You’ve had enough,” he shouts across the bar.

“You’re turning down my money? Do you know who I am?” I shout. Several people look in my direction. I’m sure they know who I am since they take out their phones to take pictures of me yelling at a bartender. If they don’t know who I am now, the internet will probably tell them when they post the pictures they just took.

“I don’t need to know who you are. I don’t want anyone vomiting on my bar,” Mr. Bartender explains.

“Fuck you!” I shout back.

I lower my head to the bar, not caring how disgusting it is.

Maybe I just need to close my eyes for a minute so the room will stop spinning.

* * *

Someone yanks on my arm, and my head flies up.

“Let’s go, Olivia,” a stern voice says in my ear.

It takes me a second to realize where I am. Bar. Drinks. Nap.

That’s right. I put my head down for a second. I rub my fingers across my forehead and am not surprised to feel how sticky it is. Gross.

There’s another tug on my arm. “Olivia.”

“What, Rhett?” I spit. “What are you even doing here?”

“Apparently taking your drunk ass home,” he tells me.

“Go fuck yourself.”

He huffs. “Cute, Olivia. Let’s go.”

I try to pull away from him. “I don’t need my big brother to swoop in and save me.”

“You think I want to be out at three in the morning trying to find my immature little sister? No, I fucking don’t. But here I am, so let’s go.”

“Serena?” I say her name to ask where she is. Rhett knows my drunk mumblings by now. This isn’t the first time he’s had to get me home after a night out.

“She texted you saying she left with some guy.”

I smile. “Good for her.”