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“I think I drank tooooo much.” She waved her hand through the air, and I smothered a laugh.
Harper was a cute drunk.
What the fuck?
Drunk chicks weren’t usually my jam. They tended to be annoying as fuck and super clingy. But no matter how much I tried to fight it, there was just something about this girl.
“Hey, man, I can handle her.” The asshole who’d attempted to put his hands on Harper stepped up to us.
I didn’t recognize him, but that didn’t mean shit. LU was a big campus. I didn’t know a lot of students. From the smugness in his eyes, he didn’t know me either.
“You need to back the fuck up. She’s with me.”
“Nah, man. She was dancing with me.” He tried to tug her away, but I grabbed his wrist. Hard.
“I said back the fuck up.”
His brows drew together, but I saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. “Y-yeah, okay. She’s all yours.”
“Mason?” Harper curled her fingers into my hoodie, demanding my attention.
“Yeah, blondie?”
Her eyelashes fluttered as she fought against the lull of whatever alcohol was swimming in her bloodstream.
“Can you take me home?”
CHAPTER20
HARPER
I was drunk.
White girl wasted.
I don’t know what happened. One minute, I’d been standing there, watching my father drink at the bar with Mason, Leon, and Ward, and the next, I’d been drinking shots like they were going out of fashion.
“Go back to your friends, Harper. We’ll talk about this another time.”
Just like that, he’d dismissed me like a naughty child who’d caught their parent doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. In front of Mason and the rookies, no less.
God, I’d been mortified. And instead of leaving, I’d stayed and decided to get so drunk that all my worries became nothing but forgotten whispers.
So I drank and danced and drank some more. Even after the girls left with Noah and Connor in tow, I’d insisted on staying. Rory hadn’t looked too impressed, but I was a big girl. I could take care of myself. Besides, I was in a bar surrounded by hockey players. Someone would keep an eye out for me.
I hadn’t expected it to be Mason.
Or maybe, deep down, I’d hoped he would be the one to swoop in and save me.
“Jesus, blondie, how much did you drink tonight?”
“I’ll have you knows. I can understand every word out of your pretty mouth,” I murmured, slumping against him as he steered me down the sidewalk. “So not enough,” I hiccoughed. “But I’m glads it was you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.” I peeked up at him, but he was all blurred around the edges. “Who saved me.”
“Right place, right time.” He shrugged, trying to play it down in that Mason Steele way of his.
