Yeah, me fucking too.
12
ISABELLA
Isn’t alcohol supposed to loosen you up?
Because I feel like it’s doing the exact opposite.
Three shots and a glittery pink drink with cotton candy later, and I’m tenser than I was when my brother approached Ryan and me. It was a good thing, really, because the way the conversation was headed would have only ended in destruction.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Aurora taps my forehead with a perfectly manicured finger, flashing me a grin. “Your brother isn’t here anymore. You can have some fun.” She glances around the crowded bar. “Where’s that hot friend of his you like?”
I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “Not happening,” I tell her.
I saw the look in Ryan’s eyes when Nathan clapped him on the back and asked him to keep an eye on me. My brother doesn’t hand out his trust easily, so for him to say that? To trust Ryan with me? I know exactly how much that means.
Aurora blows a raspberry, unimpressed. “His loss. You look sexy as fuck. You could bag any guy in here.”
“I second that.”
I snap my head toward the deep voice, catching sight of a guy sliding closer to me on the dance floor. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and grinning as his gaze drags down my body, shaking his head slightly before locking eyes with me again.
“You’re the hottest girl in here by far.”
I let out a laugh, tilting my head. “You must not have seen many girls.”
He grins, stepping closer. “No, I have, and they don’t even come close to you.” He lifts his chin toward the dance floor behind me. “I’ve been watching you and your friend all night. Dancing. Grinding. Fuck, it’s hot.” His eyes darken, voice dropping. “I kinda want to recreate it.”
He places his hands on my hips, tugging me closer, and I let him. He doesn’t care about my brother—or doesn’t know Nathan’s my brother—and he’s hot. A blond, which isn’t exactly my type, but still attractive enough to hold my attention.
“Can you dance?” I ask, arching a brow.
He chuckles. “Oh, darling. I can do anything you want me to.”
The music shifts, something faster, sexier, pulsing through the speakers. Mystery guy—whose name I still don’t know—starts moving, guiding my hips with his hands, pressing his body against mine.
I should be enjoying this. I wanted this, didn’t I? A rebound. Someone new. Someone to kiss, maybe more. Someone to help me forget Jacob—and Ryan.
But then my mind goes somewhere else.
I imagine those hands traveling lower. Or higher. Somewhere that takes this from PG-13 to R-rated.
And instead of heat, I feel cold.
It hits me all at once—the reality of what I’m doing. What this could lead to. The idea of going home with him, undressing, letting him touch me, expose me. I don’t even know his name.
A bucket of ice-cold water crashes over me.
I stop moving.
He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
I take a step back, my vision blurry as the alcohol in my system does its job. “I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, but?—”
I offer him an apologetic look as I take another step. And another. And?—
Slam into someone.
