AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Zara sounds a little breathless when she responds. “That sounds nice.”
Dark Starby Jaymes Young is playing over the speakers and my imagination runs away from me, picturing Zara’s arms curled around my neck, my hands on her hips. The heat of her body, the scent of her invading my space. My feet lead me around the bar and to Zara’s side before my brain acknowledges I need to be closer.
She turns on her stool to face me. If she wasn’t wearing a dress, I’d spread her thighs and slide between them. Instead, I sidle up to her, the outside of my thigh pressing into hers.
“Do you want to go to prom with me?”
Zara’s pink lips break out into a wide smile. “Yes.”
I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I lower my head, considering if it would be a bad idea, or a very good one, to kiss her right now.
The door to the bar swings open. There’s no record scratching to a stop, but there might as well be. Anthony, Corbin, and my father Scott walk inside as if they have every right in the world to crash this party. Scott has been told more than once that he’s not allowed in Paul’s and yet, here he is.
Anthony is dressed in his ever-present suit. His dark hair is graying slightly at the temples, but he’s a man who knows exactly how attractive he is. Speaking of overinflated egos, my father is in his uniform. He’s rarely seen without it. Corbin, on the other hand, is wearing the tightest fucking jeans I’ve ever seen. His nuts must be crushed in those pants.
He flips his sandy brown hair and grins at the room like we’ve been waiting for his arrival.
“We heard there was a party and wanted to meet the guest of honor.” Anthony’s smile shows too many teeth, and his eyes search the room. For Zara, I can only assume.
“You’re not welcome here. None of you.” I step in front of Zara, doing my best to block her from their sight. It probably does the opposite and points a flashing red arrow right at her. Although, who knows. The rest of our friends are slowly forming a wall as we glare at our unwelcome guests.
Scott steps forward, his hand on the club hooked on his belt. He fucking loves that thing. Or any blunt instrument. “Come on now, son. Is that any way to talk to your father?”
