"No thanks,” Lizzie replies for me and I turn away from him before he can ask again. Apparently the words ‘no thanks’actually mean ‘here, come and sit next to me’because that’s exactly what he does.
"Come on, let me buy you three beautiful girls a drink,” he insists, but the three of us shake our heads in unison.
"Hard pass on that one. You can go now.” Lizzie speaks again, waving him away, her voice having a frustrated tone while Olive stands, ready to approach security if we need to. That’s the thing about Olive. She might be quiet and reserved, but she’s never afraid to give you a piece of her mind or back you up in an argument if needed.
"Listen,guy.” I poke my finger so hard into his chest that I’m almost convinced I’ve broken my nail. That doesn’t stop me from continuing to say what I want to say.
"Firstly, you arenotmy type.” I make a point of trailing my eyes down his body, with a look of disgust splashed on my face before I continue. "And second, even if you were, I wouldn’t be interested in you. I have a boyfriend and I’m very happy,” I say, and even though I’m drunk, I know I didn’t slur my words, because I mean them.
"If you have aboyfriend, then where is he?” That’s a good question, and one I would very much like to know the answer to, too. I don't say that out loud, though.
I roll my eyes, taking a sip of my seventh margarita, trying to ignore the ever-growing jerk who sits beside me.
"Let me show you how a real man can treat you,” he whispers in my ear, taking my wrist in his hand, attempting to force me to stand.
“Let go of me,” I warn. Struggling to rip my wrist free, he chuckles.
"I don’t see a boyfriend here or a ring on your pretty finger, so as far as I’m concerned, you’re up for grabs.”
“Do you want to try that again, dickhead? Or would you rather a broken fucking nose? My girl told you she isn’t interested, so I suggest you back the fuck up before I make you.” My whole body tingles when I hear his voice, feeling all my blood rush to my cheeks. Everything in me erupts, coming to life for the first time in weeks, and I haven’t even laid eyes on him yet.
"Oh, come on, man. I was just messing around. All in the name of fun, right?” the jerk says with a sickening laugh as he reaches for my hand again, apparently not getting the hint.
"Touch her again, and your nose won’t be the only thing I break. I fucking dare you,” Harley threatens, and the creep's eyes dart between mine and Harley’s.
"I didn’t mean any trouble,Wingrove. I just want to show the girl a good time. She looks a little…uptight, if you know what I mean.”
His hand flies up, wrapping firmly around the man's throat, eyes glued to the man in front of him. He says, "You three, outside. Now. My car is there. Wait in it for me.” Throwing me the keys, he nods his head toward the exit for my sisters and me to leave.
"You don’t want your girl to watch you get your ass beat, Wingrove?” The guy’s voice is rocky, breathing inconsistent, and I know that Harley has a good grip around his windpipe.
"No. I don’t want my girl to see me be violent. She’s seen enough of that lately.” Harley smirks at me, and for a moment, Ithink my Harley could be back. But the smirk fades when he rips his attention away from me, and the three of us run out the door.
My sisters and me are sitting in the car for what feels like forever before Bridie’s doors swing open, and Harley all but throws the guy out by his collar before he approaches the car door and slams it shut.
The car ride home is silent. He’s barely looked at me, but he hasn’t let go of my hand.Eyes kept firmly on the road. Lizzie tried to break the uncomfortable silence, but it didn’t work. No one said a thing since.
He dropped my sisters off at their apartment building, where Lizzie slurred her 'thank you’ and Olive sent a smile his way. Then we headed toward my apartment.The last place I wanted to be if he wasn’t going to be with me.
"Will you come inside?” I ask, reaching for my seatbelt.
"Not tonight,” is all he says before placing a quick, soft kiss on my cheek, dragging his gaze back to the deserted parking lot at the bottom of my apartment building.
"You said I was it for you,” I whisper, wiping away the tear that’s fallen down my cheek.
"You are, Herring.”
Herring.
He didn’t call me Cassandra.
That’s all the hope I need.
forty-three
Cassandra
I’ve texted Harley afew times since seeing him at Bridie’s last week, but the responses I’ve received have been minimal, if anything at all.He hasn’t been at Wingrove Estates at all, either. I have a good view of his office from mine, and his door remained shut and locked every single day.
