Page 43 of On the Breakaway

I’m already moving before I fully decide to.

By the time I reach the edge of the dance floor, the guy has both hands sliding along her sides, holding her upright while Avery sways beneath the lights, her eyes unfocused and her cheeks flushed.

I see red.

“Hey.” My voice carries harshly over the music.

The guy looks over, annoyance flashing across his face. “Problem?”

“Yeah.” My eyes flick to Avery again as she sways where she stands. “She’s drunk.”

“No shit. We’re in a bar.”

“She can barely stand.”

His expression hardens. “She’s fine.”

Avery chooses that exact moment to trip over absolutely nothing. I catch her elbow before she can faceplant into the floor.

Jesus Christ.

Up close, it’s worse. Her pupils are blown wide, and her movements are delayed as her brain lags behind the rest of her body.

She smells like tequila.

I look at her, trying to gauge how gone she actually is. “How much have you had tonight?”

She squints at me like the question requires advanced calculus.

The blond guy steps closer again. “Dude, back off.”

I look up slowly. My expression must say it all because his posture changes almost immediately.

“I’m serious,” he says, but there’s less bite behind it now.

“Listen carefully.” My voice stays calm. “You can walk away now, or I can make tonight extremely unpleasant for you.”

His jaw ticks. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

I almost laugh. Normally, I hate pulling this card. It feels obnoxious and arrogant and exactly like the kind of guy I try not to be. But considering Avery looks about three minutes away from alcohol poisoning, the last thing on my mind is how I come across.

“Grayson Shaw,” I say evenly, expression hardening. “And I can promise I’ve laid out bigger men than you. Want to see?”

Recognition flashes across his face, and his cheeks flush.

Yeah. There it is.

“If you keep touching her while she can barely stand upright,” I continue, “I’m going to end up in jail tonight.”

“Jesus. Calm down.”

“This is me being calm.” I gently tug Avery’s arm out of his grasp.

The guy stares at me for a beat before muttering something under his breath and backing off into the crowd.

Fucking coward.

My body is strung tight as a wire with the kind of adrenaline I usually only feel on the ice. I don’t lose my cool like this. I don’t threaten people. I mentally add it to the list of reasons I should stay the hell away from Avery.