Imagine I actually liked her?
Keith follows me inside, and I try not to hunt the place for Blaise. I know he’s sitting at a booth, right in front of the dancefloor, to the left of the bar. There’s an Elvis poster above his head, and he’s beside that moron.
I reach the bar, and Samson orders us all drinks while one of the guys finds us our own booth. The music isn’t too loud, so I can hear Tiago talking. I follow the voice, and my gaze clashes with a green one, staring at me from the other side of the bar.
Blaise and his friends must have fakes too as they order more booze, but he’s staring at me while his lips move, talking to the waitress.
For a long moment, I’m trapped here. It’s like I’m entering a subspace without the push. He’s watching me, hunger in his eyes, possessive, and I have the urge to grab him by the throat, pin him to the bar, and claim him in front of everyone.
To make sure everyone here knows he’s fucking mine.
Someone shoulders me. “Hey, man. Stop growling at your little bro and come sit down.”
My annoyance is short-lived when Keith is summoned by one of Blaise’s friends – they’re in the same study group, if I remember correctly. They invite us to sit with them, and as we close in, Blaise walks toward his booth from the opposite direction. The closer our proximity gets, my heart races powerfully. It’s stupid, getting all wound up because he’s close to me. Closer. Closer. Fucking closer.
He slips into the booth when I reach it, and his friend drops in beside him, but I place my beer on the table and jut my chin to the side. “Move.”
Blaise goes ramrod beside him. His friend narrows his eyes. “Me?”
I tilt my head. “I’m looking at you. Move.”
Finding his words through a chortle and a disdained look, he looks flabbergasted. “Excuse me?”
“Just fucking move.”
My friends are silent, probably wondering what the fuck is going on.
Hesitantly, he takes his cocktail and slides out, giving me a strange look while I take his place. My thigh presses to Blaise’s, and my blood thrums hot in my veins. There’s adrenaline fucking pumping so fast that I can hear it roaring in my ears. My eye twitches, and I pause when I feel Blaise’s lips against my ear. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and take a drink, gulping down half the bottle. I have no idea what’s wrong with me. Everyone’s just sitting around, chatting shit, bobbing their heads to music or flirting, and I’m hitting a rager.
“Cole,” he whispers, secretly grabbing my thigh under the table – no one can see, because I’m his little secret. He doesn’t want anyone to know about us, or he would have smiled when he saw me, kissed me, or some other romantic shit.
I hold my breath at the pain in my chest. It burns. Everything burns, especially when I down another five gulps of my beer and finish the bottle.
“Jackson called any of you?” Samson asks, and it catches my attention enough that I can fill my lungs. “The asshole has been extra quiet lately. Ever since that mess at your place.”
Keith shrugs. “I told him to pay for damages. The dickhead smashed the house up and left cum on my dining table, not to mention all the shit he did to Blaise.” He looks at him. “I’m sorry, man. That wasn’t the plan. We just wanted us all to hang out. We thought you’d bring your friends too.”
“He didn’t even ask us!” one says. “He’s been too busy with Mia to know we exist the last few weeks.”
My eyes snap to him. “They don’t know you broke up with her?”
“Youwhat?” all of his friends retort at the same time.
Blaise shrugs and takes a drink of beer. “It’s not a huge thing.”
“Mia and Blaise, set to be the epic lovers. You seriously want us to believe that’s it?”
My eye twitches again, and I grit my teeth and look down at Blaise’s hand still on my thigh. He’s squeezing it so hard, trying to get my attention, but I fist my hands instead and pretend I’m not losing it while they talk about how good they were together.
“What about you and Allie?” Samson asks me. “You two done?”
“Yeah,” I reply sternly, trying to stay calm.
“What happened there? You finally accepted she was a cheat and saw you deserved better?”
I shake my head, and the words slip out without needing to think. “I broke up with her because I’m not into girls.”
