The music lowers a second later and shit.Reality pulls at the back of my shirt. I’m stuck. Literally. The only way out is through the front where there’s a beefy dude who I’d rather not encounter right now. I don’t know this place well enough to figure out where the back exit is without getting caught.
I’m, without a doubt, a hen in a goddamn wolf’s den.
Sebastian’s voice comes from behind as people skitter away. “What happened to taking a piss?”
My victim waits for the inevitable in this dimly lit club that I’m sure he frequents regularly. He thinks he’s invincible. He’s not, but he sure as hell has the upper hand.
A spark of worry filters through me. Mom’s face pops up in my head. All the shitty memories coming to the forefront of my mind, including how she’s volleyed back and forth over the years, and ultimately, also had the upper hand when it came to the younger version of me.
I’m done with being held up against walls by people who think they’re untouchable.
I imagine the fire in my eyes when I glare at him. He straightens his back and stays put. Another song comes on, but the music still isn’t as loud as it was, and I know why.
It wouldn’t take much for me to knock out this son of a bitch. I may be nowhere close to being a professional fighter, but I’ve seen a hell of a lot of matches. I know the techniques and where to find a guy’s weak spots.
Yelling comes from the other side of the club. At least, that’s where I think it comes from. A hand lands on my shoulder. I don’t want to look back and see Sebastian’s face. I don’t want to see the questions in his eyes. In the end, I turn to look at him because I’m in a bad situation. One that’s going to get worse if I don’t act fast, except it’s not Sebastian I find.
It’s Violet.
My gaze bounces around for my cousin. I catch him a couple of yards away, pushing through a throng of people and moving toward the bulky security guy I spotted earlier. Then my focus is back on Violet, her eyes wild and cheeks flushed, adrenaline pumping through her as much as it is me.
We share a look, our eyes saying,what now?
One glance over her shoulder, and she grabs my hand. “This way. Hurry.”
Neither of us spares a glance back at the guy she was with to see if he follows, but something tells me he won’t put that much effort into getting her attention unless he’s getting something in return. Knowing security is coming my way is most likely entertaining enough.
Violet hides me behind a wall that separates the restrooms from the rest of the club after weaving us through the crowd. The music turns back up but the awareness in my chest doesn’t lessen. It’s way too soon to let my guard down. Going back out there isn’t smart.
It’s muggy as hell, the air thick and sticky and opposite of the fresh air my lungs could use. The hallway is narrow. There’s just enough space for people to come and go without bumping into each other. The lights are dimmer than the dance floor, too, allowing less to be seen.
But that isn’t going to stop someone from scoping out the area.
“This won’t work,” I tell her. “And I’m not hiding in the women’s bathroom, either.”
She shakes her head, both of us looking over when someone exits the men’s room. We step closer to the opposite wall, our arms flush against it and our faces close as if we’re conspiring. And well, I guess we are. Conspiring how the hell I’m going to get out of here without being seen or that asshole pointing me out. The bass boomerangs through the place as a Pitbull song comes on, the volume returning to normal.
“We don’t have any other option.”
“Listen,” I sigh, taking in a deep breath. I don’t want to go out there to get back outside, but I will if I have to. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have hit him. I’m not dragging you into this.”
“Shut up.”
“What?”
Is she kidding?
She’s telling me to shut up when I’m the one who looked out for her and still am?
“I said shut up, Colson,” she repeats, looking back over to the opening in the wall that leads out to the club. If anyone comes looking, it’ll be through there.
I look over, too, then back at her, ready to ask why the hell she’s being this way. But then her fingers twist into my shirt, and she pulls me closer. She shifts backward until her back hits the wall and our chests press together. My eyes flick between her darkened ones, silently asking what the hell she’s doing.
I get her mouth instead of an answer. It seals over mine painfully slowly. I can’t explain how dangerous it feels when her soft lips brush against mine. When her tongue wets the underside of my bottom lip.
This girl is my friend. The only one I’ve had in Chatham Hills. I’m cool with the guys, but we’re in no way on the level of understanding that Violet and I share. My stomach drops when she pulls back because—goddamn—that ended way too soon, and I want more. My mind warps into a collage of body parts, namely hers, pressed against this dirty wall, her backside arched out for me as my hands work their way over every inch of her. As they grope, grip, and kneadher best physical feature, that ass.
Her words are a whisper against my lips when she murmurs, “Play along.”
