“You’re right, but I saw you by yourself and wanted to check on you,” he tells me.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, and he sighs.
“I can tell; that is why you’ve been glaring at your little boyfriend, who’s dry humping your sister on the dance floor.”
“He’s not dry humping her. They’re friends,” I tell him, and he laughs.
“That’s debatable with the way he has his hands all over her,” he says, shaking his head.
“Like you know anything; they’ve been friends since they were kids.”
“With benefits by the look of it.”
I growl at him. Now he is deliberately trying to get under my skin.
“Just stop. I’ve put up with enough drama today. I don’t need you getting in my head, trying to cause more.”
“Right, I’ll leave you alone. You’re right, I don’t know the little worm well,” he says, setting his glass on the table beside me.
I peer up at him, towering over me when he leans down, so close I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “But just for the record, I wouldn’t be able to get in your head unless you suspected they were fooling around already.” “They’re just friends,” I repeat, my voice a growl.
“You keep saying that, but if it is true, why has he left you here while he dances with her?” he asks, and his words sting.
His words are true. When I complained about my leg, he didn’t bat an eyelash in my direction, just waved me away.
“Something to think about, Cleo. You can do better. He isn’t worth your time.” “Then who is? You?” I scoff and he shrugs.
“Well, if you were mine, I wouldn’t be caught dead with another woman, let alone have my hands all over one,” he whispers. I swallow, and he smirks before standing back up, and I find Deacon staring in our direction. Suddenly, a bouncer taps Zayn on the shoulders.
“Alpha, a fight has broken out upstairs.”
“Shit, show me,” Zayn says, following him. I shake my head, turning my attention back to the dance floor, where I notice Lydia is gone and Deacon is making his way over to me.
“What did he want?” he asks, and I shrug.
“Wanna get out of here?” I ask him.
“Lydia just went to get us all more drinks.”I huff.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. I point to my leg.
“An hour more, then we’ll go,” he says, and I shoot him a dirty look. “Promise,” he tells me when Lydia hands me a drink. I shake my head.
“Come on, don’t be a party pooper,” she whines.
“I have to drive,” I remind her, and she shrugs.
“Catch a taxi; I can run you back in tomorrow to get your car,” she tells me, holding out the blue-colored drink. Reluctantly, I accept it, sipping it when Amber comes over.
“Deacon, come dance with me!” she whines, giving him pouty lips. She tugs on his arm, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He mouths sorry and lets her pull him back toward the dance floor.
“One hour, Deacon!” I yell out over the music. He blows me a kiss and holds up one finger, indicating an hour.
For the next hour, I try to lose myself in the pulsing beats and flashing lights, but I can’t shake the feeling of Zayn’s gaze on me.
Gradually, I begin to feel strange. Something is wrong. I get up and make my way toward the bar to ask for some water. My face is tingling, and I hear my words slurring when I speak. The lady at the bar grabs my arm as I sway on my feet, and my surroundings blur. “I’m fine. That drink was stronger than I thought,” I say, shaking her hand off. I have to get out of here. I turn and look for Deacon.
The mish-mash of bodies on the dance floor blurs around me, and the music dims as my hearing moves in and out from loud to soft. My head feels heavy, my tongue thick, and my limbs don’t want to cooperate.
