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Grinning at the camera through my still-watery, swollen eyes, I hold up a handful of licorice in one hand and my drink in the other.
“Oh, this is fantastic. You look like a hot mess. Dex’ll never deny us now. He’ll probably buy us lunch, too.”
It’s after eleven when I’m stumbling down the street toward my building, which is way too late for me on a work night, especially with the little sleep I’ve gotten this week. But Dex, ever the gentleman, assured us a free pass tomorrow, promising greasy food, iced coffees, and a quiet day locked in our offices. So we accidentally opened a bottle of wine.
I’ve drunk an unholy amount of alcohol tonight, and my bones are telling me I may never be the same again. It’s not great, but the heaviness in my heart has lifted tenfold, and that right there does wonders for a woman.
I’m humming along to my music and doing this little hip sway thing that I’m sure looks less like dancing and a lot more like I’m having some sort of medical attack while walking, but I don’t care. I’m happy. It’s entirely too freeing of a feeling to admit what’s going on in my heart and to finally agree to act on in it in a way that makes sense. All I know is I can’t wait to see Avery tomorrow and tell him how I feel.
I grin like the happy I drunk I am—quite the contrast from the sad, pitiful drunk I’d planned to be alone in my bathtub tonight—at a man leaning against the brick of a building two down from mine. He’s puffing on a cigarette, his eyes smiling at me while they drift down my body.
When I move past him, he reaches forward and tugs one of my earplugs out, making me gasp with surprise.
“Hey gorgeous,” he purrs.
He’s not so bad looking himself, tall, but not as tall as Avery, cute smirk, but not as irritating as Avery’s. I’m also not a fan of smoking, which I’ve just made obvious by choking on the thick air and waving my hand around to try and clear it. He chuckles and throws his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it with his shoe.
“Whatcha listenin’ to?” He pops my earbud in.
Ew, gross. Those are definitely going in the garbage.
His lips curve up. “Tragically Hip, huh? Good taste.”
He hands my bud back and I curl my fingers around it because, like I said, there’s no way I’m putting that thing back in my ear.
“Where you off to? It’s kinda late to be walking around by yourself. Need me to escort you?”
I point to my building. It’s, like, a hundred steps away, but it suddenly feels like a hundred blocks. “No thanks. Pretty much home already.” Crap, I’m still slurring my words. They’re slow and lazy as I sway a bit in my spot. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around my elbow, steadying me. I don’t know if I appreciate it or not.
“You look a little drunk. How ’bout I help you get upstairs?” His eyes scroll up and down my body, lingering on my legs, or my ass, I’m not sure. “Those are the tiniest shorts I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, uh…thanks?” I tug on my jogging shorts, suddenly feeling incredibly uneasy and a little too exposed. I may be drunk, but I’m with it enough to realize this situation is quickly becoming uncomfortable.
“You’ve got nice legs.” He moves behind me and whistles. “And that ass. Shit.”
When he comes back around and stops in front of me, he’s biting his knuckles. A tremble shakes my spine and goosebumps dot my flesh.
“Right. Well, thanks.” I thumb toward the condo. “I gotta work in the morning, so…” I teeter back on my heels before taking a step forward. I wobble just a bit and his hand catches mine.
“Let me walk you upstairs,” he suggests again.
“Oh, no, it’s okay. I got…I mean…my…I told my boyfriend I’d text him and he’d meet me downstairs to let me in.” I fumble for my phone in my back pocket.
Except I don’t have back pockets in these shorts. My phone is in my backpack.
Panic sets in when the man’s lips curl into a menacing smile and his grip on my hand tightens. He takes a step forward and I mirror his movements, backing up. I try to tug my hand free.
“Please,” I say. I hate how weak it comes out. I hate that I drank like I was in high school tonight. I hate that I’ve made mistake after mistake lately. “You’re hurting me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want that. I just wanna make you feel good, beautiful. Unless you like it to hurt a little bit. I can handle that.” His eyes darken, tongue swiping across his lips.
My chest tightens past the point of painful.
The man jerks his head toward my building. “Come on, gorgeous. Show me your apartment.”
“I don’t fucking think so,” a dark, husky voice spits out from behind me.
A warm hand slips under my backpack and lands on my lower back, sweeping me forward while my hand gets ripped out of the other man’s tight grasp. Something fluffy rubs against my leg. I look down at Sully, his chest puffed out while he stands on guard, growling at the man I’m desperate to get away from.
