Page 31 of Backlash

“Oh!” Poppy’s fingernails dig into my arm. That’s the moment I decide to intervene.

“Enough.” I grab the back of Sterling’s shirt, and he turns toward me.

“He was touching you.” His eyes blaze with unrepressed fury.

“That’s none of your—”

Before I can finish. Jeremy grabs Sterling by the collar, spins him around, and lands a right hook square on his jaw. It stuns Sterling, but only momentarily. He recovers and slams into Jeremy, and the pair crash onto the ground. A few seconds later, more guys jump in to pull them apart.

“Get that asshole out of here,” Jeremy shouts.

Two of his friends drag Sterling out the front door. I’m torn between following and staying.

“That’s your fucking boyfriend?” Jeremy comes over, wiping blood from his lip.

“No. I mean, yes. I…” I say, then realize he’s the last person I’m going to explain this to.

“Well, it’s not going to matter much longer.” Jeremy stalks out the door after him.

I rush after, arriving in time to see his friends holding Sterling by the arms. Jeremy moves to hit him, and I scream. The porch light goes on at the neighbor’s, and someone opens the front door.

“Hey, we called the cops. A party is one thing, but I draw the line at this shit!” A disembodied voice calls out.

Instantly, it’s chaos. The guys drop their hold on Sterling and he stumbles forward, taking another swing at Jeremy but misjudging and landing on the ground.

“Christ,” Cyrus says, tearing out the front door and skidding to a halt next to me. Everyone else at the party comes streaming out behind him as the distant sound of sirens pierce the night. “Should we leave him? A night in jail might sober him up.”

Sterling can’t afford bail or a fine, and I know it. I square my jaw and shake my head. I can’t believe I’m saving his ass.

“Come on. Let’s get him back to your place,” I say to Cyrus.

“Are you sure?” Poppy asks, as Kai and Cyrus go over to gather Sterling off the grass.

I stare at him. Boyfriend or not—and it’s definitely not at the moment—I owe him. “He wouldn’t leave me here.”

“That’s not the same,” Poppy points out. “Someone drugged you.”

“Yeah,” I say in a hollow voice. Sterling did this to himself, but that didn’t make the idea of leaving him to get picked up by the police any more appealing. “I guess sometimes you help people even if they don’t deserve it.”

And Sterling Ford doesn’t deserve it. I know that. That’s why I’m going to make him pay for his mistakes, just as soon as he sobers up.

11

Sterling

Present Day

It’s not the first time Adair has shut the door in my face. It probably won’t be the last. Ten minutes later, I’m still standing in the hallway when a harassed-looking bellhop scurries down the hall, heading in my direction at breakneck speed. He stops a foot from me and his eyebrows knit together as if I’m some sort of puzzle. After a few seconds of silence, it’s clear I’ve fried some circuitry in his brain.

“Can I help you?” I ask, leaning casually against the doorjamb.

“Miss MacLaine requested a screwdriver.” He peeks around my shoulder to check that he’s in the right place.

“She’s changing,” I explain.

“And you are…” he fishes.

“Waiting.” Jesus, I’ve seen less interrogation sitting at an Afghani prison. I hold out my hand. “I’ll give it to her.”