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When she finally opens her mouth to speak, someone shoves her to the side. The culprit; a just as slight, but more confident, golden-haired, spitfire. The glasses girl catches herself before she falls onto the drink soaked floor, and runs a shaky hand through her hair, fingers getting stuck in a knot halfway down. She shoots daggers at the girl who just pushed her.
Ripping my eyes away from the brunette, I turn my attention to the blonde. As soon as I see the crystal blue eyes, I let out a heavy sigh.
“Was that necessary?” I shout.
Gracie Hutton’s eyes never leave the other girl as they stand in some kind of weird, possessive showdown. I give the brunette a half-smile and blink in surprise when she somehow gains the courage to walk back over to me.
“I’m Savannah,” she says, introducing herself, smiling widely at me because of the significant height difference between us. As soon as I open my mouth to respond, Gracie cuts me off.
“Hi Savannah, I’m Gracie.” Although her words are slurred, the harsh possessiveness behind them is unmistakable. Rolling my eyes, I smile at Savannah once again.
“I’m Tyler.” I nod and take a step closer to her, no doubt earning a sharp glare from Gracie. “Don’t mind her. She just doesn’t get along well with other girls.”
Gracie scoffs and Savannah blinks a few times, looking silently between us with an overwhelming sense of awkwardness that threatens to swallow me whole. “You’re one to talk about not getting along with people of the same sex,” Gracie spits, folding her arms under her chest with a glare.
Raising my brow, I chuckle quietly. “You’re still on that? It was one time, and you didn’t exactly tell me to stop hitting him.”
“I didn’t know I had to tell you to stop when he lost consciousness.”
“I’m just going to go,” Savannah cuts in, shoulders tense as she spins around and all but flies away back to her friends. Gracie moves to stand beside me with a smug grin.
“You can do better than her anyway.” She twists her body towards me, moving a step closer. I shake my head and turn my back on her and stare down at the bar. I raise two fingers to signal the bartender over, and order another drink.
“You shouldn’t turn away in the middle of a conversation.” Gracie’s voice makes my ears ache as she moves up beside me. Her small hand attempts to wrap itself around my forearm, and I tilt my head to look at her expectantly.
“And you shouldn’t interrupt conversations,” I say quietly, unwrapping her fingers from my skin.
“You should thank me. She was so not your type.” She scorns me and boldly leans against my arm.
“Does your brother know you’re here?”
“He’s my brother, not my dad. Why would he?”
“This place is crawling with creeps, in case you’ve walked around here with your eyes closed.”
I don’t really want to spend my night babysitting a nineteen-year-old who’s finally allowed to drink in public. That’s all this is.
“I can worry about myself, Ty,” she says, but her actions contradict her words as her arm snakes around mine. But I choose not to say anything.
“Where are your friends? Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?”
She brushes off my insult expertly and knocks back the rest of the red drink I didn’t see her order and roughly pulls my arm. I reluctantly move away from the bar and sigh as she drags me towards the crowded dance floor.
The temperature is ten times hotter over here than it was by the bar, and the overpowering need to turn around and run in the opposite direction washes over me. Being the ass hole she knows so well, I rip my arm from her grasp and rush off towards the front doors.
My head thrashes around in all directions as I search for an exit. WhenI finally spot the neon red sign hanging above a pair of double doors, I don’t look back.
