I wanted to be angry with him. I wanted to hate him so much, I could never talk to him again. But instead, I was just hurt. Gutted. Betrayed that he had been with Cashman, or anyone at all, when he could have been with me.
“What’s up, girl?” he asked with his famous little side grin.
“Sup,” I answered coldly, not meeting his eyes from my seat on the swing.
“You okay?” His brows knit together, and he all but laughed. It only aggravated me more.
“Peachy,” I said with narrowed eyes and a scrunched face before I got up and started walking toward Enzo’s. “Enzo should be home by now, so we should just head over.” I avoided making eye contact with him, and although he was unaware of the reason, he chose not to press me further.
The rest of the afternoon went by pretty much the same—me giving E the cold shoulder and E sending confused glares my way as he tried to figure out why.
Enzo’s house was once again a party by nightfall, and I was good and buzzed shortly into it. I kept my distance from E, and I knew he could tell. It was in his questioning gaze that he kept finding mine throughout the night. I tried to look away, but once I noticed the yearning in those light brown eyes, my heart broke, and I hated my behavior. I wanted to change it. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to stop. But I was in too deep. And I was still lost in all my hurt.
Eventually, E started to entertain the girls who approached him. The drunker I got, the harder I’d scowlbefore I’d look away and find Enzo. When I looked back, E’s eyes would be elsewhere, and it would piss me off even more. I told myself it was all harmless flirting and there was nothing more to his actions. I told myself it didn’t matter. To get over it, because I had no right not to.
Then Maddy walked in.
Maddy was a year older than we were and hot as she could be. Basically, a brunette Britney Spears, with shining blue eyes to match and the perfect skin tone. She could wear gold and silver at the same time, and it wouldn’t clash. Everyone had eyes for Maddy, and she was untouchable.
But guess who was touching her within minutes of her arrival?
When Maddy got to E, his arms slipped around her waist, low and familiar, and she giggled at whatever clever line he threw at her like she was actually interested. She spoke so closely to him, her lips brushing his ear, and I hated the sight of it.
Out of spite and to ease my pain, I turned to Enzo and made him kiss me, which he drunkenly enjoyed. But when I turned back to find E’s eyes on me, I only felt worse.
That’s when I started taking shots.
A very drunken hour later, Eminem’s “Superman” came on. E and Maddy started slowly dancing in the middle of the living room with the others. I threw myself at Enzo again, and he happily obliged, his hands running up and down my body on the makeshift dance floor.
It was supposed to distract me, supposed to make me forget that E was even in the room, but it didn’t work. My eyes kept finding his, and his were on hers. I wasn’t sure ifit was their seductive rhythmic motions or the liquor in my belly, but suddenly, I felt sick. Really sick.
I ran off the dance floor and into the bathroom, where I threw up everything I had ever consumed in my life.
After nearly twenty minutes, I felt better. Sober even. Well,moresober. But it was enough.
I rinsed my mouth with mouthwash, dabbed my face dry with a towel, and opened the bathroom door. My heart froze when I saw E standing there, waiting. His entire being was relaxed and calm, but a force nonetheless.
“You alright?” he asked with a serious concern, but sobered up or not, I was still pissed as hell, so I decided to be a snotty bitch.
“Fine. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, his eyes telling me he knew exactly why, but he would play my game anyway. “No reason, I guess.”
“Good. Can you move?” He took a small step backward, angling his body, leaving just enough room for me to pass. When I did, he grabbed me by the elbow and spun me back to him.
“What are you doing, Syd?” His voice was sultry and deep, and it sent a shiver down my spine, which I tried hard to ignore. My eyes bounced from his eyes, to his full mouth, and back up again.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing,” he repeated.
“Are your questions always statements?” I snapped mockingly.
He snorted and stared down at me, taking a deep breath through his nostrils as he let me pull my arm from his grip. There were still only inches between us.
“Why are you worried about me, anyway? Aren’t you busy with Maddy, or maybe Cashman?”
“What?” His head jerked back, and his brows knotted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
