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Sadly, it’s working.
Pushing the phone away from me, I attempt to level her with a harsh glare. Which does nothing. “You enjoy this, don’t you, Poppy? You enjoy seeing people hurt?”
“Not people, just you.” She shrugs. “You should have expected it when you rolled in here, acting like you owned the place.”
“She never did that, Poppy,” Ryann interjects, throwing her hand up. “You’re being a complete bitch right now. And truthfully, it’s not a good look.”
I take a deep breath and let it out before I stand, walking till I’m nose to nose with her. “You can try all you want to get in my head. But at the end of the day, when we go to the solo event, everyone will know who the better dancer is.” I glare at her. “Continue to fuel my fire, Poppy. I dare you.”
And then I walk away because, frankly, the picture of Hunter and Paige is burning in my brain, making me feel sick.
I should have known he’d run right back to her. It was never me he wanted. It was always Paige.
21
Hunter
Do I look like a creep, sitting in this corner booth with my hat on and my hood up over it? Probably. But let’s face it…I don’t give a flying fuck.
It’s been a week since I’ve seen Sutton, and despite coming off like a pathetic loser, here I am, at Peaches, because I know she has a shift tonight.
My eyes search the room, and it doesn’t take long before I spot her, walking toward one of the small stages before she wraps her body seductively around the pole. It’s hot.
Fuck, it’s hot.
But what’s stopping me from enjoying the show is knowing that there’s about twenty to thirty other sets of eyes watching too.
If someone could catch heaven’s saddest angel and bottle her up, they’d have Sutton Savage.
I don’t know when it happened. Not the exact moment anyway. But somehow, everything that matters to me now begins and ends with this girl. The world spins not because she exists, but because I finally, truly know her. And if I never get my real shot with her, it’ll be my biggest regret.
Song after song, I sit here. My eyes never leave her, and she never seems to spot me. I know, soon, she’ll need a break. I wonder if her lungs get tired when she’s constantly moving like that. Or if she ever gets scared or uncomfortable. She’s brave to get in front of this club and show herself the way that she is. I have to give her credit for that. But I still fucking hate it.
When she steps away from the pole, slowly moving her body as she dances closer to the edge, I watch some drunk motherfucker grab her leg. And when she kicks him away, he goes in for another grab, this time trying to reach higher.
I see the bouncer headed his way, but I don’t give a fuck. He won’t be here fast enough. Taking some large strides, I pull the dumbass who grabbed her leg backward by his hood, smashing the back of his head off the chair.
Standing over him, I lean forward, gripping his shirt. “If youevertouch my girl again, you stupid cocksucker, I’ll make sure your arms don’t work for the rest of your life.”
“Chill out! It’s not my fault your girlfriend is a slut who wants to be looked at!” he grunts. “She’s basically begging for me to fuck—”
My fist connects with his face over and over as I clench the fabric of his shirt. I’m just about to go in for another punch when I’m hauled backward by what I’m sure is security.
“I will fucking kill you, you dumb motherfucker!” I growl, sucking in a breath as adrenaline courses through my veins. “I will fucking bury you alive if you ever touch her! Do you fucking hear me!”
Shoving me through the door, one of the guards points his finger in my face. “You listen to me, you little punk. The only reason why we haven’t called the cops is because we know who you are. You’re Hunter Thompson, starting winger for the Brooks Wolves. We’re not about to fuck the team’s season up more than it is.” He points a finger in my face. “But the boss isn’t going to be happy. We have a way of taking care of customers like that.” His eyes widen as he jerks his thumb toward the door. “And that shit you just pulled? That ain’t it!”
“Can I just see her?” I pull my arm from his hold, dragging my hand through my hair. “Can I just fucking see her to make sure she’s all right?”
“They deal with that shit every night, kid.” He shrugs. “She signed up for this job. It often involves drunk, entitled dickwads like that one. We handle it. The night goes on.”
“Hunter, what the fuck?” Sutton wails, pushing through the door, wearing a long black robe. “What the hell was that in there? Huh? Now, you’re stalking me?”
“Miss Sutton, do you need us to remove this boy from your presence?” one of the guards says.
“He’ll leave soon, trust me. You can go back inside. I’m fine,” she hisses, never breaking eye contact with me. When they walk off, she jabs her finger into my chest. “You have no right, showing up here and causing a scene. No. Right.”
“What the fuck do you want me to do, huh? Let assholes like that grab you?” I grind my back teeth together. “I can’t do that. Who the fuck else is going to keep you safe?”
