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“Not tonight.”
Someone catches my eye, causing me to glance up. I mutter a silent curse and grit my teeth when she comes completely into view. My dick instantly hardens when I see what she’s wearing. A tight black leather skirt that’s entirely too short—if she bends over, there’s no doubt she’ll be flashing ass cheeks to half the school population—a silky light-blue shirt that hangs so far off one shoulder that the top of one breast is showing, and a pair of black fuck-me heels. Her hair is loosely swept up off her shoulders in some complicated bun, and her face is made up in some type of smoky look. It’s not over the top—it actually looks fucking hot—but it’s not the natural look she normally uses.
Tiffany reasserts herself back into my thoughts when her fingers creep lower into my jeans, trying her best to get to my junk. I grab her wrist and yank her hand out. My expression is hard when I look down at her. My anger isn’t directed at her—it’s not her fault Rylee Harper decided to show up here. Unfortunately, Tiffany is closer to me than Rylee is.
“I know you fucking heard me, Tiffany. I said, not tonight.” The words come out harsh, and I should probably feel remorse when hurt appears on her face, but I don’t. Tiffany is just like all the other girls in this room. They think if they push hard enough, show enough tit, grind their pussies against places they wish to visit, they’ll finally get their way. Most guys here will give in, but I’m not most guys.
I let go of her wrist and leave her behind. My steps are long and purposeful as I stalk toward Rylee. I’m only a few feet away when I notice Charles at her side, which only heightens my anger. But what really pisses me off is the red Solo cup in her hand.
I don’t stop my pursuit until I’m right in front of her. Her eyes widen in surprise before they quickly narrow into slits.
I bend over so my face is right in hers. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl over the loud music.
I have to admit, even if only to myself, I admire her bravery when she doesn’t back down or flinch at my tone.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here to let loose and party,” she answers, her tone matching the ire in mine.
“I highly doubt Terri invited you.” I sneer and rake my eyes up and down her body.
I know for a fact Terri wouldn’t have invited Rylee. She knows of Oliver’s distaste for his new stepsister. She also knows there would be consequences if she went against him by inviting her.
“The word around school was the party was an open invite to everyone.”
“Everyone except you.”
She scoffs, unphased by the blatant rejection of her. “Well then, she should have been more specific.”
“No one wants you here, Rylee. Get the fuck out and go home.”
“To hell with you, Zayden. I don’t see anyone else telling me to leave.” She looks around the room before bringing her eyes back to me. Mirth plays in their depths. “It seems to me you’re the only one that has a problem with me being here.”
With that, she spins on her high heel, grabs a startled Charles’ hand, and stalks away.
Boiling rage starts in my gut and sends lava through my veins. The bitch just won’t catch a clue. But she will.
I look around and find Oliver in the same spot as before. Except, instead of being immersed with Patty and her cousin, his face is hard as he watches Rylee and Charles cross into the center of the room and start dancing. My rage intensifies when she throws one arm around his shoulder and grinds down on his leg that’s between hers. She laughs and tips the cup to her lips, swallowing down half the contents.
I glance back at Oliver and find his eyes on me. I tip my chin at him, and he detangles himself from his entourage and walks off.
I leave Oliver to do whatever he plans to do and make my way over to Rylee and Charles.
I don’t give them time to notice me before I snatch Rylee by the wrist and drag her behind me. She digs in her heels, but it doesn’t stop me.
“What are you doing, Zayden?” she screeches. “Let me go.”
When I don’t comply, she yanks her wrist away from my grip so hard I know a mark will be left behind.
I spin around and grit out, “Outside. Now.”
“No.”
I step closer. “Either you go outside with me willingly, or I’ll toss you over my shoulder. Either way, you’re going. I need to talk to you.”
Pretty Boy Charles moves to her side, steppin
g slightly in front of her. “Just calm the hell down, Z.”
“Back the fuck up, Charles,” I warn. “This isn’t your business.”
