Clearly, the last hour, or hell, even the last five minutes, has thrown him through such a loop that he seems to have forgotten the reason behind our little outing in the first place.
Before he can start swearing again, I climb onto the back of his bike. “It’s fine. Just drop me off at Castelli’s. It’s already closed, so Reed and Nico will be leaving soon. One of them can give me a ride.”
“To where?”
I shrug. “To wherever Maggie is, I guess.”
Thankfully,the ride to the restaurant is short, and our mode of transportation doesn’t make communication easy, so I don’t have to endure any awkward silences. The moment Jase brings the motorcycle to a stop, I dismount and head for the back parking lot of Castelli’s, throwing a quick “Thanks” over my shoulder.
At least, that’s what I intend.
The second I turn my head, hands capture hold of my waist, whirling me around completely.
Jase’s lips capture mine as his hands slide up to the nape of my neck, and I’m too caught off guard to react with any sense of rationality at first, allowing my lips to part, inviting him in. It’s over far too quickly, but he takes advantage of the time he has, devouring me so thoroughly that my knees threaten to buckle. The ragged sound that leaves him may very well be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard—
And just like that, he severs the connection.
It doesn’t leave him unaffected, though. His chest heaves as if he’s been running a marathon, yet he’s still backing away.
“We’ll talk later,” is all he says, taking his lips and breath and muscles with him back to his motorcycle.
“When?After your booty call?” Before my brain can process his words or that kiss, he’s long gone, leaving my words echoing into the night air.
Seriously, what the fuck was that?
He admits he’s missed me for years, is being cagey as hell, kisses me, and then runs off to hook up with Natasha?
“What the actual fuck?”It’s the only thing my brain can verbalize amid the blood roaring through my ears as I storm through the parking lot to the back door.
Never in my life have I been so relieved to hear heavy metal blaring from inside.
At least one of the guys is still here.
Before I reach the door, I get a message from Maggie reading:
I nrd 3 gave ses1!
Huh?
Another text immediately follows, simply reading:
SES
Which clarifies absolutely nothing.
Does she mean S.O.S.? Is she in trouble?
Three phone call attempts later, and anxiety riddles every inch of me. As far as I knew, Maggie had gotten a ride tonight, she planned on getting drunk, and the party she was attending supposedly promised a night of debauchery. Sure, it didn’t add up to anything good, but I figured the worst would be a mild hangover and maybe doing the Walk of Shame. Maggie being so shitfaced that she can’t even operate her own phone?
That’s something else entirely.
It’s the kind of thing that can lead to something dangerous, if the wrong sort of guy comes along.
I thank the Lord when my phone finally sounds off with Mags’ name dancing across the screen. “I’m gonna kill you,” I sigh.
My friend giggles hysterically on the other end of the line, and much to my annoyance (and none of my surprise), she sounds wasted. “Well, if that ain’t a fine how-do-you-do?”
That’s the thing about Maggie. She may bounce back like none other from a hangover, but she’s just as capable as the rest of us when it comes to getting shitfaced.
