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“You heard her,” Joey warned in a dangerously cold tone, reaching up to pry my hand off his cheek. How it had got there, I had no clue. “Walk away.”
“Oh, you’re just loving this, aren’t you?” Paul narrowed his eyes.
“You must have a serious death wish, prick-face,” Joey replied in a heated tone, as he took a menacing step towards Paul. “Walk the fuck away before you restart something that I’ll be only too happy to finish.”
“Try it,” Paul snarled back. “You remember who my father is, don’t you?”
“Threatening me with your daddy the Gard?” Joey threw his head back and laughed. “Like I give a fuck.”
“He’s a lot higher up the pecking order than just a Gard,” Paul hissed. “You’d do well to remember that the next time you think about crossing me, Lynchy.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I mumbled, shaking my head, as I squeezed my body between them, feeling the heat emanating from both boys as I pressed a hand to each of their chests. “Don’t even think about starting a fight in here.”
“Who’s trying to cause a fight here, Aoife?” Paul hissed back at me, tone accusing. “Because from where I’m standing, all I’m trying to do is take my drunk girlfriend home. You’re the one making a scene and draped all over the school’s scumbag like he’s your savior. Classy, Aoif, real fucking classy.” Running a hand through his hair, Paul glowered at Joey. “If you think that you’ve one-upped me tonight, Lynchy, you’re wrong. Because this right here,“ he paused to wave a hand between us, before sneering, “doesn’t count. She’s not thinking clearly, and if you have a shred of anything decent about you, then you won’t take advantage of the situation.”
“Hey.” Joey held his hands up and smiled darkly. “All I’m doing is being a goodfriendto my favoritefriend.”
“She’s not your anything.”
“Uh, yes, I am.”
“Hear that, Ricey?” Joey replied, with a shit-eating grin etched on his face. “Your girl hereismy anything.”
“Hey,” I snapped, glaring up at Joey. “Not cool.”
He shrugged in response, unapologetic.
“And this is what you want to stay with instead of letting me take you home?” Paul demanded, giving me a look of such disgust that it made me wither. “A year and a half, Aoife. A year and a fucking half and you pick that piece of shit over me?”
“No, Paul, I’m not picking him over you, I’m pickingmeover you,” I snapped in a shaky tone, as I shook my head, and staggered away from the both of them. “This is over, Paul. Congratulations, you’re a free agent. We’re done.”
“Aoife!” Paul called after me, but I didn’t turn back.
Screw him.
Screw them both.
Shoving my way through the mob, I tried to retrace my steps back to Casey, regretting my decision to come tonight almost as much as the alcohol running through my veins.
* * *
My phone was vibratingnext to me.
Narrowing my eyes, I glared down at my phone and quickly pressed end when Paul’s name lit up the screen.
He could go to voicemail, along with the other dozen unanswered calls he’d made, not to mention the seven unread texts.
Thoroughly depressed, I sat on the bonnet of a random car outside of the Pavilion, with a bag of chips balancing on my thighs, as my fishnet-stocking clad legs dangled loosely.
Frozen to the bone, but too drunk to truly appreciate how cold the night air was, I muttered angrily to myself as I chomped on my vinegar-coated chips like a demented lunatic.
I was so fucking mad; I could taste it on my tongue, as I swung my legs so furiously that one of my heels slipped off.
“Fuck,” I slurred, staring down despondently at my shiny white stiletto when it landed in a puddle of muddy rainwater on the ground. “Well, now you can just stay there, you traitorous slut,” I hissed, glaring down at the knock-off leather. “That’s right. I said it. This is all your fault.”
“Well, if it isn’t the angel with her dirty wings,” a familiar voice drawled, and I groaned loudly.
Great.
