Page 29 of Pocketful of You
I wasn’t high maintenance, dammit, but this was freaking ridiculous. We were just shy of our one-year anniversary, supposed to be in that loved-up, honeymoon period, and yet Chris hadn't paid me more than five minutes of attention all night.
I wasn't expecting him to serenade me, one freaking dance would suffice, but oh no, he was too busy bromancing it up with his bestie.
Huffing out a breath, I reached for my cup of spiked punch and tossed it back. And then, for good measure, I grabbed Chris's full cup and tossed that back. too.
Eyes burning from the taste, I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and willed my throat to stop burning. It was at that exact moment my eyes returned to Sketch, who was now looking straight at me.
Fuck.
Shit.
Dang.
Quickly averting my gaze, I reached for Presley's untouched punch and drained it in three huge gulps, all while my heart hammered violently in my chest.
Just breathe, Romi.
Don’t freak out.
So what if he caught you staring at him?
Just –
"Dance with me."
Huh?
Startled, I looked up and bit back a sob.
All night I'd been desperately trying to avoid Sketch, and now he was here, standing in front me, looking divine in a tux, and offering me exactly what I wanted.
Selena Gomez'sBack To Youwafted from the speakers, and I felt another piece of my heart chip away.
"Dance with me," Sketch repeated, tossing his jacket on the empty chair next to mine.
"Wh-what? Now?"
"Well, tonight would be good," he shot back, and the smell of alcohol on his breath was potent.
"I, I, I…I, but we, and you –"
"Stop doing that with your mouth. It makes you look like a fish." He tipped my chin up with his thumb, causing my mouth to snap shut. "Now, get up and dance with me."
Feeling slightly buzzed and completely off balance, I climbed shakily to my feet, all the while praying that my pounding heart remained behind my ribcage.
"You look nice," I whispered, unsure of what else to say. Besides, it was a total understatement. He was by far the best-looking guy here. The dark waistcoat and crisp white shirt only emphasized his muscles. "And drunk."
"Oh really, because you look like mine," he drawled, tucking one hand into his pants pocket, as he stared down at me. "And bored."
"I look like…" My heart seized in my chest and I quickly looked around to see if anyone else had heard. "Wh-what did you say?"
His eyes, bleary and bloodshot, still burned with heat. "Let's go."
"You okay there, Sketch?" Chris asked good-naturedly, finally noticing our tense interaction.
"I'm taking my girl back," Sketch replied, voice slurring a little as he reached for my hand and tucked me under his arm.
The brothers stared each other down for the longest moment, before Sketch grinned. "For a dance, that is."
