What if it wasn’t protectiveness at all though? What if it was always just jealousy? I mean, sure, I would get pissed when a guy would make her cry, or if I saw the guy treating her like shit. But I always thought that was because I was trying to shield her from getting hurt.
I knew the way she grew up, I know how lonely she was, even if she tried to tell everyone she was perfectly fine. I could always see straight through her façade.
She thinks she’s perfected it to a T, always trying to act like nothing bothers her, like she isn’t hurting. But I know her, and I see her. She may not think I do, but I do.
I’ve always thought that her parents were shitbags for letting their daughter feel like she wasn’t important. Like they couldn’t care less about their own flesh and blood being home alone all the time.
I used to have dreams where her parents would come home, and I’d confront them about being such shitty parents and how Lainey deserved better.
I had imagined it so much that it started to feel real. It started to burn itself into my memory, and I could recite exactly what I’d say to them to this day.
Of course, Lainey doesn’t know about that. She doesn’t know how much I wanted to protect her from the pain it was causing her. How I wished I could take it all away because she didn’t deserve to feel so alone, so insignificant.
“I see you still haven’t done shit about that,” Ryker says, making my gaze turn from Lainey back to him.
My brows narrow in confusion. “What?”
He nods his head toward the table again, and I know he’s talking about Lainey. He’d asked me about her last year, and I’d told him it was nothing. We just enjoyed getting on each other’s nerves.
I don’t think he believed it, and to be honest, I don’t even know if I believe it.
“Her,” Ryker states.
“Who?” I ask, acting as if I haven’t got a clue who the hell he’s talking about.
Ryker rolls his eyes. “You know who. The drunk girl hanging all over my fiancée. The one that you’ve been pretending you don’t have feelings for since the day I met you.”
I scoff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I don’t have feelings for anyone.”
Ryker laughs, grabbing his drink off the counter and taking a large gulp. My nerve endings feel like they’re on fire, partly because of the whiskey and partly because of the confusing as fuck feelings swimming around in my head.
I’ve known this girl since she was eight. I’ve seen every part of her, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I never once imagined I’d feel…somethingfor her. I’m so fucking confused, and of course Ryker would call me out on my bullshit.
“Yeah, right. So, you don’t have a problem with Colton Kent having his hands all over her, do you?” Ryker questions.
My head snaps in the direction of the table where sure enough, Colton Kent, another Elite member takes Lainey’s hand and drags her to the dancefloor.
My heart pounds loudly in my chest as a surge of anger and jealousy take over my body. What the hell is he doing? My fists clench at my sides as I watch Lainey wrap her arms around Colton’s neck.
They begin to dance to the upbeat music, him turning her around so her ass is practically grinding on his dick.
Lainey’s smile makes my already racing heart thrum faster and I have to fight the urge to go over there and physically remove her from his grasp.
Ryker’s soft chuckle brings me back to the conversation at hand.
“That’s what I thought. You have feelings for that girl.”
Grabbing my glass, I down the rest of my whiskey before slamming it back down on the bar.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” I bite out, stalking toward the table where my sister and the rest of our friends are.
Ellie’s brows furrow as I slump into the seat next to her. “What’s wrong with you?”
I shake my head and avoid looking at her. “Nothing,” I grumble.
“You seem pissed off. Are you alright?” my sister asks, concern lacing her tone.
“I’m fine,” I say firmly. I don’t mean to be a prick, but my emotions are running haywire, and I feel like I might explode as I watch Lainey and Colton dance like no one’s fucking watching. I’m fucking watching.
