“Naomi,” I say with a small smile, forcing my anxiety to the side as I shake his hand.
He grins. “Beautiful.”
The bartender returns with our drinks, and Brett lifts his to me with a smile.
“Cheers.”
I clink my glass against his then knock the drink back in one chug. I cough through the sting of the alcohol, and Brett looks at me curiously before nodding to the dance floor.
“You want to dance?”
“Um… sure. Let’s.”
I only hesitated for a second there. Look at me go.
Brett shoots his drink in one go too, then offers me his hand and guides us through the crowded dance floor. Bodies brush into us occasionally, but when I look at them, I see that everyone is just too lost in their own moment to care, and I kinda love that.
When we’re in the center of the crowd, Brett turns to face me, sliding one arm around my lower waist as he begins swaying to the music. I dance in place for a moment before deciding to be a little braver. I inch towards him a little at a time, but when he notices this, he grins and yanks me against him, forcing his leg in between my thighs. I gasp at the brazen move, and he ducks his head down to whisper against my ear.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
I smile up at him from beneath my lashes then rest my hands on his biceps, and steadily, we find a rhythm, dancing to song after song. The alcohol is pulsing through me already, especially with the empty stomach I’m currently working with. That’s why when Brett gets us another round and I slam it just like the others, the whole world starts to spin. Or maybe that’s the dancing. I couldn’t really tell you.
The tempo picks up as the song shifts, and Brett’s hands begin to wander. Panic starts to rise inside me, but I force it away. This is exactly the kind of stuff Cassi was talking about. I play things too safe; I don’t take risks. I run before anything exciting can ever happen in my life.
But not tonight.
Brett slips a hand beneath my dress, slowly snaking his way towards my panties as he smiles down at me and presses his lips to mine. The kiss catches me by surprise, and that nervous ball in my stomach intensifies. But in a good way I think? Honestly, the drinks have me all but floating, and I’m not sure I could stop if I wanted to right now. I don’t want to, though—I think.
I kiss him back and start to wind my arms around his neck, mainly for stability—and then I’m suddenly ripped backward. I stumble several feet before landing on my ass, the thud audible even over the loud beat of the song, and several people stare at me while a man in a leather jacket has Brett’s shirt balled in his fists. They shout at each other for a moment, but I can’t really make out what they’re saying. Then the leather-jacket dude rears his head back before cracking Brett in the nose.
Brett stumbles backward, and several people rush to check on him. One man even tries to pull the guy in the leather jacket away, but that Good Samaritan is rewarded with a sucker punch to the face before Brett’s attacker turns to me. The instant he does, my heart sinks.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or if I really am seeing what I’m seeing right now, but that’s Kolter stalking towards me, undiluted rage on his face. He bends down then throws me over his shoulder, and the entire world tips upside down. A wave of nausea slams into me. I gag for a moment as we step out of the bar, and Kolter growls at me over his shoulder.
“You better not fucking puke on me.”
Well, he’s asked so nicely, I’m semi-tempted.
“Where’re we going?” I slur.
Dang, I guess I’m more buzzed than I thought.
I feel him shake his head. “To get you sober,” he grumbles.
“I’m fine!” I argue. “I wanna dance. Let me go!” I shout and begin beating on his back.
My blows don’t affect him in the slightest, though his arms do tighten around my legs, like he’s expecting me to start kicking. Not a bad plan.
“Yeah, I don’t think your dance partner is up for another song,” he sneers.
“What about you?” I ask. Realizing quickly how that sounds, I add, “I mean, if he’s hurt, so are you, right? A headbutt isn’t a good idea for anyone.”
In an instant, my world is flipped on its head once more, Kolter swinging me forward until I land on my feet. My ankles buckle, thanks to my heels, so he holds me under the arms, keeping me from sprawling on the sidewalk as he stares down at me.
“I’ve got a hard head.”
I can’t help but laugh at that and nod in agreement. “You don’t have to convince me you’re hard-headed.”