“To the bathroom?” I giggle and shake him off, keeping my voice light when his nose flares. “I’ll see you back on the dance floor.” Without waiting for a response, I walk around the amorous couple this time, taking in the fresh air when I finally break away from the crowd. Turns out it’s not as hot as I thought. There’s just too many people in the one spot.
As I move through the space, I pass a few of the younger Storm players, smiling when they wave. While I don’t yet know all of them, I recognize a couple from the charity event, and wink before continuing on my way.
The farther I get, the cooler the air, and as it seeps into my lungs, I take a deep breath, ignoring the dizziness from drinking a little more than I should have.
With the bathroom in sight, I pick up my speed and stumble over an empty bottle, laughing when I catch myself.
I’m still smiling when I pull open the door until the bottle rolls across the floor behind me as though someone else kicked it out of the way. My heart jolts, but before I can turn, a hand grips my waist and a breath warms my neck. “You left without me,” mydance partner’s voice filters through the air, and I spin around, my heart racing at the malice in his expression.
“I—”
He covers my mouth with his hand, cutting me off as he shoves me through the door, shutting it behind us. His midnight eyes locked on mine, he grips my shoulder, pushing me into the wall opposite, following closely behind.
My ankle rolls, but just like in the hall, I catch myself seconds before I fall. “What the hell are you doing?” I snap, trying to shove him away.
The guy chuckles, clearly ignoring the disgust in my tone. “Re-laax.” He draws out the word, shoving me back. “We’re alone.”
“That’s—”
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he cuts me off. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“Get off me.” I wriggle in his grasp, but it only works to make him tighten his hold.
“Come on, Hayley. Relax.”
Hayley? Ugh. I never told him my name. Sometimes it sucks to be known.
“Don’t pretend you don't want this,” he continues and my stomach knots. “You’ve been flirting with me all night.”
I stand tall, looking him in the eye, and scowl. “Since when did flirting give you permission to follow me into the women’s bathroom?”
“Since now.”
“Fuck off.”
“Ooh, she has bite.”
“I’ll show you bite.”
Slamming my knee into his junk, I shove him off me and dig my stiletto into his foot, listening to his groans as I readjust my dress. Without a backward glance, I rush to the door, reaching it as it flies open.
“Are you okay?” one of the rookie football players asks, his eyes ablaze as his gaze snaps to the guy in the corner.
“Bitch,” the guy spits out, cursing me in his hunched position, his hands clenching his balls.
Without responding, I grab the rookie’s arm, pulling him away while his eyes stay locked on the dickhead behind me, watching him cower.
“I’m fine,” I say honestly, giving his arm another tug. “But thank you. Can you walk with me?”
His eyes flash to mine before they drift back to the guy, clearly torn on what to do and geared up to fight. “Of course. But—”
“Don’t worry about him. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay away.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. Come on.”
Dragging him by the hand, I slam open the door and beeline for the bar, releasing my hold on the rookie when we’re no longer alone. “Thank you again.” I pause, wishing I could remember his name. Something starting with L? “I appreciate you checking in on me.”
