His grip loosens, slipping an inch down my waist. Everything inside me tenses. I don’t want him to let go. An unsettling part of me wants him to touch me forever. I sway backward until I’m leaning against him. His body stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away.
He doesn’t pull away.
“That’s the problem,” I say, staring sightlessly down the hall. “I don’t need you to keep me safe. I’m—”
“Fine.” It’s a low caress. Almost affectionate. “I know.”
“There you are.”
His warmth disappears so quickly, I almost stumble back a step.
“I’ve been looking for you forever. Where have you—” Whitney pauses, finally spotting me. Her lips part, and she glances between the two of us.
Easton sighs, running a hand through his messy strands. “Not now, Whit.”
“Don’tnot now, Whitme.” She gapes at him. “Easton ... you can’t be serious.”
Aaand, I’m out. Quietly slipping away, I toss back my water, and for once, I wish it was something stronger that would burn my throat. Must be nice toreallyslip away every now and again.
“Shots, shots, shots!” erupts from the kitchen.
Fight Clubhas apparently fled the building.
I enter the kitchen to find Marco licking a shot off a girl on the counter, her shirt pulled up to reveal a lacy red bra.
Marco looks up and meets my gaze. “Guapa!” He wipes his mouth and pats the island. “Get up here!”
I laugh dryly. “Yeah, no.”
Zach wraps an arm around Marco’s neck, a sloshing cup in his hand. He grins at me. “’Sup, Eva? Fancy seeing you here.”
I roll my eyes, genuinely smiling this time. “Nothing fancier than red Solo cups and body shots.”
“You gonna get in on the action?”
“Not really my thing.”
“Can’t hate a guy for trying.” Drunkenly, he smirks, and half his cup spills down Marco’s shirt.
“What the fuck, man!” Marco pushes him away. “This isArmani.”
I shake my head and peer through the drunken bodies, into the next room. I spot Easton and Whitney still arguing. Something inside me rebels against seeing them together. He’s not hers. To speak to, totouch, to fight with. The feeling coils and inflates, and before I know what I’m saying, the words are already past my lips.
“I’m in.”
The bitching about Marco’s T-shirt halts, and both he and Zach stare at me.
“Don’t play with me. My heart can’t take it,” Zach says, putting a hand on his chest.
“I’m serious, but if you have other things to do ...” I take a step to leave.
“Nope,” Marco blurts. “Move over, Sabrina.” He practically shoves the girl who’s sitting cross-legged on the counter to the floor.
“Shut up, Marco. I’m already moving.” Sabrina hops off the island and shoots me a smile. “Have fun,” she says before she grabs her friend’s hand and walks away.
Fun. Right.
My eyes slide to the counter, then back to Easton, who doesn’t notice me at all.
