“Stay near me,” I tell Laura firmly, leaning close so she at least has a chance to hear me. She nods quickly, her grip on my leather jacket cutting off my circulation.
We make it into the living room, which is somehow worse. The furniture has been shoved to the walls to make space for a writhing mass of bodies moving in no real rhythm to a DJ booth against the obnoxious fireplace. A strobe light flashes intermittently, turning everything into fragmented snapshots. Faces, hands, hair, open mouths laughing. I spot at least two phones filming, both of which turn to me as I step inside. Yeah, no thanks.
Backtracking, I head for the kitchen instead. The press of bodies briefly tightens in the narrow hallway, the walls practically sweating from condensation and heat. Framed photos of Everest are slightly askew from the beat of the music, although the star of the show is yet to be seen.
Someone barrels past, a man on a mission it seems, and Laura stumbles, almost dragging me down with her. My arm tightens, my focus distracted as the gin bottle in my hand is swiped by an apparent accomplice.Bastard. There’s no time to react as he disappears into the crowd, a gap opening up before us. Without thinking, I plant Laura in front of me and use her as a human shield, shoving her forward until we stagger into the kitchen. Finally, we have room to move and I exhale with relief.
“Are you okay?” I ask, steadying Laura and checking her over with my eyes. She’s shaken, but she’s still smiling like this is the best thing to ever happen to her.
“Yeah,” she breathes. I shake my head, flexing my hand that’s now sorely missing a drink. The kitchen island is covered with options, not to mention the enormous bowl of red punch sitting in the center. I turn my back on that, heading to the refrigeratorinstead. Pulling out two beers, I hand one to Laura with as serious a face as I can manage right now.
“Remember. Do not take a drink from anyone,” I state harshly. She nods, oblivious to the guy attempting to pass her a cup with a lazy grin. I groan to myself. This girl is going to be eaten alive if I let my guard down, but I’m also so fucking desperate to let my guard down. I’ve been back at Hollowbrook for a week. One. Week. And all I’ve managed to do is make enemies, embarrass myself incessantly, and cement that I have lost all of the power and respect I used to thrive on.
Sighing, I realize Laura is still staring up at me, the beer clutched in her hand still sealed shut. Oh right, we need a bottle opener. Turning towards the display of pebble gray cupboards and drawers, a flash of white blonde hair catches my eye. I almost lose the grip on my beer, but instead, it’s just my jaw that drops.
“What the,” I hiss, pushing my hand towards Laura. “Hold this and don’t move.” As soon as the weight in my palm is relieved, my feet are moving. I appear right in front of him, my heart kicking up a beat against my ribs. He’s leaning against the counter, ankles crossed in navy slacks and pristine white sneakers. I didn’t know he was capable of owning clothes that weren’t coated in paint smears. Lowering the cup in his hand, his sharp eyes latch onto me, pools of gray twined with the haze of alcohol.
“How the fuck did you get an invite?” I blurt out. Heat rushes to my cheeks but I stand my ground, my boots putting me merely an inch shorter than him.
“I didn’t.” Reid’s pierced brow rises, slowly assessing me in the way that makes me feel completely naked before him. I suck in air, my bravado withdrawing. This is the first time I’ve looked him in the eye since the day I snuck into his room, since his paintings triggered the nightmares I’ve been working to bury.A shudder rolls through my spine, the images of my contorted body appearing before my eyes. Is he seeing me like that now? Is he wondering how I can bend and break? Is he the one who wants to do it to me?
Slowly, I come to my senses and take a step back from Reid. His gray eyes track me, narrowing slightly. I reach my hand back, hoping Laura will see me floundering and come to my aid. She doesn’t, and neither does Reid let me slip away with any of my dignity intact.
“You’re looking at me differently,” Reid tilts his head slightly.
“No, I’m not,” I shoot back too quickly. My cheeks heat further. I hate that he affects me without saying more than a handful of words at a time. In an effort to regain control, I take the cup out of his hand. “I’m absolutely not.” Shrugging, I down the rest of his drink. Holy crap, that burns.
“Yes. Since you snooped in my room.”
It takes everything in me not to choke and cough all over his pristine white shirt. The black outline of his tattoos press against the materials, images merging as I try not to splutter against the heat scorching my throat. Not while he’s watching, steadily maintaining my eye contact and hunting for any sign of weakness.
“How did you know?”
Instead of answering, Reid lets the moment stretch on, testing how long it’ll take before I break eye contact. The kitchen is heaving with bodies, a mix of laughter and a heavy bassline colliding. Yet, all that noise dulls as Reid peels away from the counter and takes the miniscule step to put himself directly in my space. His jaw scrapes my temple, his cologne warping my senses. I feel myself being drawn in like a magnet seeking its charge, my chest finding his for stability and when his mouth meets my ear, my pulse rockets. The rhythm hammers at the base of my throat, but I refuse to let it show.
“You’ve lost your charge.”
Gasping, I whip my head around to see that the spot I left Laura in is empty.
“Dammit!” Turning away from whatever was happening between Reid and me, I start to leave when his hand slides beneath my jacket and lands on my hip. I flinch, instinctively unnerved by the firm and unwelcomed press of his palm against the patch of skin my tank top doesn’t quite cover, then I freeze. His touch isn’t aggressive, but it’s not soft either. Just enough pressure to halt my momentum and hold me in place for his chest to meet my back.
“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice slipping beneath the music. “I’ve got eyes on her.” An inked hand points beyond my head towards an open archway where a long table has been commandeered for beer pong. Laura stands on one side, her cheeks flushed and blonde curls bouncing as she laughs wholeheartedly while attempting an exaggerated throw that misses the cup entirely. The people around her cheer anyway. A tall redhead loops an arm around her shoulders, coaching her stance, and Laura beams like she’s known them for years instead of minutes.
My rigid panic loosens a fraction. She’s safe, and better yet, she’s enjoying herself. That’s far better than the outcome I expected of this evening. I started drinking early so I would be prepared for the tears and dramatics when she was chewed up and spat out alive. A weight I didn’t realize I was harboring lifts from my shoulders.
“She’s fine,” Reid adds, his hand still resting at my hip, thumb absentmindedly brushing back and forth as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. I tense again for a whole different reason. Reid Wilder, my asshole neighbor, is touching me. The contact jolts through me like static. I should step away, but for whatever reason that I’ll put down to curiosity, I don’t.
Instead, I release a shallow breath, the tension bleeding from my shoulders as I watch Laura sink a lucky shot and erupt into delighted disbelief. Cheers roar through the lower half of the house, high-fives being offered freely. No one’s crowding her more than necessary, no one’s hands are wandering. It’s just simple, harmless fun, for now.
Reid reaches past me for two fresh drinks from the island in front of us, pressing one into my hand without asking. His fingers graze mine briefly, and I realize the only one being crowded here is me. Worst yet, I’m not mad about it. Lifting the cup, I take a sip, then another. The burn is smoother now, dulled by whatever I already have coursing through my system.
“Huh,” Reid grunts in my ear. “You do know how to have fun.”
I glance over my shoulder at him, catching the faint curve of amusement at the corner of his mouth. Nevertheless, I narrow my eyes and down the rest of the drink, accepting the challenge he barely had to offer. The rumble of a chuckle rolls through my back as Reid also downs his drink, and reaches for another. I do the same, pausing only to wriggle out of my jacket. Amongst the motion, Reid’s hand nudges higher, gliding over my stomach to slip beneath the hem of the tank top. And so our new game begins.
I drink, his smile grows, his hand skates across my skin. I don’t remember how the cup in my hand becomes a bottle, or at what point we started swaying to the music. Each time Reid leans over me, his crotch grinds firmly against my ass and I start to push back harder. Music bleeds through the walls, a remix of ‘Pink Pony Club’ forming in my ears.
“I love this song,” I murmur to myself, dropping my head back against a steady shoulder. The lyrics tumble from my mouth, my hips rolling in light circles. Fingers brush mybralette, the calming presence at my back keeping me upright. He is calming, like a sedative seeping into my system.
