“I, uh…” I started, still trying to formulate an answer that wasn’t pathetically honest.
My gaze shifted over the crowd, desperate for an out, and froze when my eyes landed on her.
Harlow.
She was dancing on the makeshift dance floor, eyes closed, completely lost in the music. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves past her shoulders. She wore a low-cut top that showed a sliver of bare stomach and tight black jeans that sat low on her hips.
Fuck, those hips.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I watched, transfixed, as she raised her arms above her head, the movement pulling her shirt higher, exposing another inch of tan skin.
My gaze narrowed to the hands on her waist.
Jealousy ripped through me.
Captain Perfect. The dark-haired guy from outside her classroom. He stood behind her, fingers gripping her hips, and his body pressed against her back as they moved together. His mouth was close to her ear, probably saying something charming.
“Owen?” The brunette’s voice cut through my haze. “Did you hear me? I said we should get out of here.”
I should leave with her. Let Harlow be. Let her dance with whoever she wanted, kiss whoever she wanted. I told her I would back off. I agreed to let her live her life however and with whoever she wanted.
“Owen?” She tugged at my arm, neon nails digging into my bicep. “Hello? Earth to…”
His hands slid lower, fingers curling possessively around the curve where her thighs began, pulling her back against him.
I saw red.
Every logical thought evaporated. Every reason I built for staying away crumbled to ash. There was only the primal, territorial fury that clawed its way up my throat and demanded action.
I shoved the beer back at the brunette so hard she stumbled slightly. “Sorry, I’m here for someone else.”
“What? But…”
I was already gone, cutting through the crowd as if my entire body had been hijacked. My chest burned like it was a volcano that just erupted, and my heart pounded against my ribs so hard I thought it might explode. My clenched fist trembledinvoluntarily with the type of rage I didn’t even know was possible.
People stumbled out of my way, their drinks sloshing over the rims, and complaints died when they saw my face.
I reached them in seconds.
My hand closed around his shoulder, and I spun him around, putting myself between him and Harlow.
“What the…” He looked up at me. I had at least five inches and forty pounds on him, and I used every bit of it, looming over him with barely contained fury.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I growled, anger radiating off me in violent waves.
His eyes went wide. Recognition flickered. He knew who I was, and that meant he knew my reputation. His gaze darted to Harlow, then back to me, calculating his odds.
“Dude, we were just dancing…”
“I don’t care.” I stepped closer, and he stepped back. In this moment, I didn’t give a fuck if he was her best fucking friend. He was never going to touch her again. “Leave. Now.”
He surrendered easily, raising his hands in defeat as he disappeared back into the crowd. I watched him go, making sure he didn’t look back, my chest still heaving with adrenaline.
Harlow never stopped dancing. She was completely lost in the music and the alcohol coursing through her, moving her hips, and my heart rate spiked.
The music shifted to something slower. I turned, and she was still moving, her eyes still closed like she hadn’t noticed any of it.
Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I stepped in.
