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“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.” I turn, giving his shoulder a hard shove as I stomp back to the other side of the counter. There’s other liquor. At this point I’m not going to be picky.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns, clearly not missing my intent.
“Or what?” I raise an eyebrow in challenge.
“Barlow.”
My smile turns wicked as I reach for the bottle closest to me, not even sure what the hell it is.
He makes a move toward me but stops right about the same time I feel two arms come around my middle and a chin drop to my shoulder.
“There’s my dance partner.” I recognize the voice but can’t for the life of me remember his name. Brad. Chad. Something like that. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he murmurs in my ear.
I can’t even think to respond before Atlas takes two long strides toward us and suddenly the weight of Brad/Chad’s body is gone. I turn to see Atlas forcefully shove him out of the kitchen.
“If I were you, I’d go find another dance partner.” The tone of his voice causes little, tiny pin prickles to pepper my body.
“That’s my bad, man.” Blond guy holds his hands up as he backs further into the next room.
“Seriously, B?” Atlas whips around, his gaze menacing. “Thatguy?” He hitches his thumb behind him.
“Don’t call me that.” I stomp like a two year old. “And there’s nothing wrong withthatguy. He happens to be very nice, and a good dancer.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he would have been very nice all the way into your pants.”
“He’s a friend of Rita’s.”
“He still has a dick. Doesn’t matter who he’s friends with.”
“What? So I’m not allowed to hang out with anyone with a dick now?”
“Not when the person that dick belongs to is only after one thing.”
“Like you’re any better. What makes him any different than you? You’re nothing more than a hypocrite.”
“Maybe I am.” He shrugs. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re way too good for a douche like that.”
“Does that mean I’m too good for you, too?” I fire back, not really sure where the hell that came from.
“Without question.” He nods slowly as he closes the distance between us.
“Ha!” I throw my head back. “You’re so full of shit. You don’t think anyone is too good for you. You’re perfect, remember? God’s gift and all that jazz.” I flap my hand around that’s still holding onto the bottle of alcohol
“I never said I was god’s gift.” He smirks, leaning in closer, causing the tiny hairs on the back of my neck to stand. “Those were your words. Now...” Before I even realize what’s happened, the bottle of liquor is ripped from my hand. “I’ll take that, thank you very much.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I object, growing a bit frustrated by my inability to secure myself a drink. “You and my brother treat me like I’m a child. You know, we’re the same age.” I gesture between the two of us. “And despite what you may think, I’m not stupid and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now give me the damn bottle.”
“Given some of the choices you’ve made tonight, I’m not convinced. And no, I will not give you the bottle. I think we both know you’ve had more than enough.”
“Well luckily I don’t have to convince you of anything. And I will be the one to decide when I’ve had enough, not you.” I no more than get the words out when I feel it—the unmistakable heave of my stomach as it pushes the contents inside of it upward.
I turn, barely making it to the sink before it all spews to the surface. It hits the stainless steel like a jet stream, splattering back up, peppering my face with red liquid. I don’t have time to wipe it away before another heave draws even more to the surface.
Over and over again it happens. Like a never ending cycle.
I’m vaguely aware of Atlas beside me, but don’t fully process his presence until he’s helping me upright, wiping my face with a damp cloth.
