“Why?”
“She seems like she genuinely likes you. The other one just seems like she’d brag to her friends about fucking you.” She’s been downing water with her cocktail for the last half hour, but her tongue is still loose from the shots earlier.
I glance back at the women and one of them catches my gaze and gives me a coy smile, but I feel none of the usual excitement. Too distracted by Scarlett to give a fuck about anyone else.
“Maybe. What about you? Pick someone out for your birthday?” I nod toward the crowd below us.
She laughs at the idea. “Yeah. The bartender down there. Gonna see if he’ll rail me when he gets off his shift. He doesn’t look like a gentleman, right?”
The guy looks like an absolute self-absorbed dick who probably fucks a different girl he takes home from the bar every night. One who definitely doesn’t deserve to touch Scarlett. And while I’m all too aware of that irony, I can’t help but want to stop to it.
“He looks like tomorrow morning’s regret.”
She looks back at me and raises an eyebrow, her eyes flashing to the women I was talking to and then back to me without saying a word.
“They’d probably regret me too, I know.”
Her lips quirk with amusement but she still stays silent. I slide my palm over her thigh, risking dismemberment.
“But you wouldn’t, right?” I smirk when I raise my eyes to look at her, and her brow goes sky-high in response.
“Regret fucking you? Probably not. It’s the murder and the twenty-five years that’ll be a real source of remorse for me.”
“Would make you pretty unpopular.”
“I think my popularity’s already waning.” Her eyes float to the women across the way who aren’t amused that I’m touching her. “So you’d better go back to your fan club.”
She stands then and leans over to grab her purse. I feel a little swell of panic that she’s headed off to flirt with the bartender. If he has any brains at all, he’ll definitely sign up to be hers for the night. I hate the thought of the two of them fucking. Of anyone touching her but me tonight.
“Leaving?” I slide my fingers up the back of her knee as I look up at her.
“Need the powder room. I’ll be back.” She looks down at where my fingers brush over her soft skin.
“Good. I’ll drive you home when you’re ready.” I lean back, looking up at her to make sure she knows I’m not joking. Her mouth moves like she’s about to say something, but she closes it again and heads off to the bathrooms instead.
FIVE
Scarlett
I practically runto the bathroom to put some distance between Tobias and me. He’s taking the gentleman thing a little too far this evening, being ridiculously attentive and borderline charming. I know he can’t possibly be implying what I think he is, but if he was any other guy on Earth, I’d assume he is.
I need a break, fresh air, and probably a whole lot more ice water than I’ve had so far. But if he did want a one-night stand… would that be so bad? I might hate him, but he is incredibly fucking nice to look at and rumored to be pretty good in bed. I could do worse for my birthday, and he’d probably treat me better than some random bartender given that he’s guaranteed to have to see me again in the future. I think I might not completely hate the idea, but I’m definitely not going to embarrass myself for the millionth time tonight by saying something first and being wrong. Since apparently, when it comes to signals, I’m clueless.
By the time I get back to the VIP section we’ve been in, I have my answer. I feel stupid for even thinking of leaving with him. The blonde from before is curled up next to him drinking champagne and running her hand up his forearm while she listens to whatever he’s saying. Across from them Harper and Xander have returned ahead of me and are so focused on making out that they don’t even realize I’m standing here. I’ve come full circle this evening, back to being the fifth wheel. Which is my sign to go home, get in my pajamas, and sleep this embarrassing day off.
I hustle my way back out and down the stairs before I’m spotted, pausing on the landing to get a ride before I make my way through the crowd. I don’t want to tell Harper I’m leaving because she’ll insist on taking me home and the last thing I want is to be around any more adoring couples this evening.
So when the car arrives and I climb in, I send off a quick text to her to tell her I’m on my way home and that I love her and appreciated the amazing birthday she gave me. Then I collapse in the back seat, staring out the window for the long ride back to the suburbs while the rain starts to come down hard.
* * *
If I’m honest,I hadn’t been dreading turning thirty the same way some people do. I’d been looking forward to it. My twenties had been a long marathon through school and crappy relationships that didn’t work out in the end, and I’m ready for a blank slate. A whole new decade to see what comes next.
I did not, however, anticipate starting that decade and ending this night in the cold pouring rain sitting in the back seat of my driver’s broken-down car on the side of the road while he trudges down it to get a tire because he refuses to get a tow.
I tap my nails on my phone for several minutes, wondering what the hell I should do. If I’m safe here and who I could tell just in case. Not many people I know are likely to be up at this hour, and I don’t want to wake someone up just to worry them. Which means there’s really only one person to call. So I text Harper about my dilemma. A moment later the phone rings.
“Are you telling me you’re sitting in a stranger’s broken-down car in the middle of the night alone?”
