He laughs, downs his whole drink in one go, sets his glass down, and steps back farther, far enough that I can’t reach him.
Instantly, a girl grabs him like he’s fresh merchandise.
Her hand goes to his neck, twirls him around, circles him like she is out shopping for men, and chose him.
Her fingers are running over his shoulders.
Rava doesn’t give her a second of eye contact.
Not one. He is just letting her orbit him.
She leans into his ear and whispers something.
Christ, I want to rip her hair out.
Then Rava reaches up, touches her hair, pushes it behind her ear, whispers back.
The girl covers her mouth, laughs and disappears instantly.
He stays there.
I look away before I combust.
No. Not tonight. Tonight isnotthe night I lose my mind.
I need to get a grip.
It’s normal for people to hit on him.
He doesn’t belong to anyone.
The weird thing would be if theydidn’ttry.
He doesn’t have a threatening aura.
He has a hypnotic aura. A pull. A quiet magnetism. Of course they all drift toward him. One look, one fucking movement from him is enough to reel them in.
He moves out of my line of sight, and this time a guy grabs his hand out of nowhere.
The second I lose Rava from my eyes, I feel like passing out.
I don’t want to feel like this, but my first instinct is to grab the guy by the head and slam it against the wall.
That’s not normal. That’s not even close to sane.
I feel threatened over something that doesn’t belong to me at all. I throw back the rest of my drink and shove into the crowd, pushing people aside.
Pride gone. Dignity gone.
No one is touching him tonight. Not while I’m breathing.
Not ever, honestly.
I spot them again, grab Rava by the arm.
The guy looks thrilled, Rava looks calm.
"Lorenzo wants us," I shout. "Come on." I don’t let him say goodbye.
