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Blake can fuck whoever he wants, and if they want to share his dirty dick, more fool them.
I can’t let it get to me.
Over the next hour I stand back as a spectator and let the night run its course.
Henley is being his swoony playful self to everyone but me. In fact, he hasn’t even looked my way.
I’m not imagining it. Something is going on.
The music is pumping loud now. You can hardly hear over it. “Dance with me,” Mason says as he puts his arm around me. I edge out of his grip.
“I’m not in the mood tonight,” I call. I’m not even lying. I am so not in the mood to dance. In fact, I think I’m going to go home. Being alone in my bed is much better than being alone here.
Mason looks over to Henley. “She won’t dance with me.”
“Dance with him, Taryn,” Henley calls over the loud music.
Taryn, who is well on her way to Drunkville, holds her hands up in the air and sashays. “Let’s go, baby.”
I sip my drink and look out over the dance floor.
“You should go and dance with him,” Henley says as he comes to stand beside me.
“I don’t want to dance with him, Henley,” I mutter into my drink. “You know this.”
“Why not?”
I frown over at him. “I think you know why.”
“Because of our arrangement?”
I sip my drink.
“I’ve been thinking about that.”
My skin bristles.
“And?”
“I want to explore this thing with Taryn.”
“What?”
Did I hear that right?
“I’m into Taryn,” he calls over the music. “I want to take her home tonight.”
I step back from him, shocked.
I couldn’t have heard that right.
“You want to take Taryn home tonight?” I ask to make sure I heard him right.
“You should take Mason home.” He shrugs casually, as if we are talking about a drink from the bar. “He’d be a good fuck, I imagine.”
Boom, boom, boom sounds my heartbeat in my ears. My stupid eyes well with tears, and unable to even form a sentence, I turn and march toward the doors.
He wants her.
