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I don’t want him near me but I can’t fucking move.
He lifts his hand and moves a strand of hair from my face. It takes everything inside of me not to tip my cheek into his palm, to take the comfort I so desperately crave from him.
“Baby, what are you doing?”
Baby.
I scrunch my eyes closed in an attempt to stop the endearment from stabbing me in the heart. I can’t do this, not right now.
My hand lifts and I watch, in an almost out of body experience, as it swings toward his face, connecting with his cheek. His face turns with the force of the slap. He turns to face me, his cheek red, but instead of the anger I expect, all I see is understanding.
No. He doesn’t get to be understanding.
Without a word, I brush past him and stumble my way to the exit, my vision blurred with the tears that coat my lashes.
The cold, late November air hits me as I step outside. It’s refreshing and the perfect thing to get my brain functioning enough to get home. My hands dive into my hair as I pace on the sidewalk.
People mill about, waiting for cabs or smoking, but it’s not early enough for the club to be clearing out so it’s not overly busy.
Get home, that’s what I need to do. I march down the sidewalk, no more than five steps away when I come to a halt.
“You’re going to need this,” Sebastian says, his deep voice like a thrill down my spine.
He’s holding out my clutch bag and I wonder for a moment if I can leave it with him and just hitchhike home.
That’s probably not the best idea.
I snatch the bag from his hand, clutching it to my chest. “Thank you.”
“I’ll take you home.”
I almost laugh at him, but when I see the look on his face I realize he isn’t joking.
“No, thank you.” I turn, intent on finding a cab.
His hand on my elbow stops me. “Alex, I’ll take you home. Please. Let me do this.”
“I don’t need you.”Shit, that’s not what I meant. Well I did mean that, but that’s more something I should say to myself. “I don’t need you to take me home.”
His jaw ticks, as if what I’ve just said has hurt his feelings. Good.
“My car is over there.” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “Please, I just want to make sure you get home safely.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I cock my hip as I say, “Who said I was going home?”
“I’m not above throwing you over my shoulder, Alex.”
If he’d said that to me before, I would have gotten a thrill out of it but I’m scared that if he touches me I’ll do something stupid like beg him to love me.
“Your options are, you get in the car, or I throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the car.”
“If you lay a hand on me, I’ll scream.”
“Please, Alex. It’s getting cold, you’re wearing next to nothing and I just don’t want you to get sick.”
“What if I want to get sick?” Okay, that makes no sense. I need to go home.
He scrubs a hand over his mouth, hiding the smirk I know my words have caused.
