The pleasure building inside me and the desperation that lives right under my skin hope that it’s one of them. Or all of them.
Craning my neck back, I search for the source of the voice.
Disappointment washes over me when I lock eyes with Bryant.
“Cam’s been looking for you,” he informs me, his brows pulled together in a scowl.
Oops. Daddy DD mode is in full swing, apparently.
Another giggle escapes me at his expense.
“And who’s this fine specimen of a man?” Keira mewls. “Friend of yours, pretty girl?”
I keep my focus fixed on Bryant, intending to ask where Cam is. To convince him to find her and bring her here so she can meet my friend, Keira.
Instead, the words that leave my mouth are “Dance with us, Bry!” I tug on his arm and try to pull him into the chaos of the dance floor.
He slyly spins out of my grasp, muttering about going to get backup. He’s gone before I can even register the loss of him.
I spin in a circle quickly, the head rush feeling fantastic.
I do it again. And again. And again.
I’m laughing and out of breath when I register a firm touch on my upper arms. Swiping the sweat-soaked fly aways off my forehead, I blink, focusing on the form in front of me.
“You’re here!” I wrap my arms around Cam’s neck and pull her into a hug.
Instead of coming closer like I want her to, she plants her feet.
The tightness in her shoulders and resistance to her stance are strange.
“Bryant said you seemed out of it, babe. You good?” She holds me at arm’s length, assessing me with critical eyes.
I scoff. “Pshh. Bryant is a man. He knows nothing.”
That elicits a snort from her. “Truer words have never been spoken…” She examines me again, brows pinched. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“My god,” Keira drawls out. “I didn’t know you invitedyour momto this party, Sawyer.”
In the recesses of my mind, it occurs to me that she is very aware that my mother is dead, making her comment extra shitty.
Lip curled, Cam tips her chin at Keira. “You know her?”
It’s hard to hear over the music. It’s hard to keep my thoughts untangled when my brain’s one and only priority is to feel and feel and feel some more.
Nails scrape along the bare skin of my midriff and a pair of arms wraps around me from behind. Delicate fingers splay over the stretch of skin between my top and my skirt.
Shivering, I lean back and give her my weight.
“Does she know me?” Keira mocks. “Honey, this girl right here is my best fucking friend.”
Honey.
Honey?
I jolt forward, suddenly tense, my extremities prickly. I want to scratch my way out of my skin. I might even need to throw up.
Keira holds me back, her warmth chasing away the sensations and my mind quickly drifting to other topics.
