My mate is glassy-eyed and definitely drunk, twirling around barefoot and singing off-key.
The double doors open and the place empties of males who head out, Cade and Joel closing the doors behind them. There’s already a fire roaring outside.
Bailey notices and stops dancing.
“Hey!” she complains, but then spins around to look at me, wrinkling her nose, like she’s just scented me and found me repulsive.
Her hair is loose, falling halfway down her back. She’s wearing tight faded jeans with splits in the knees and higher up on the thighs than I’m comfortable with based on the other eyes that have been on her tonight. She’s also got on a light knitted top with one tie around the collarbone, yellow daisies all over it and it’s over a white cropped racerback tank that shows her navel.
And her lips are painted, looking like a glossy, mouthwatering, candy apple.
She fans herself and pulls the sweater off, tying it around her waist with the sleeves. Yeah, I’d say it feels like it’s about a hundred in here. There’s a light sheen of perspiration on her skin that makes her cleavage shiny. And in just that tank top there’s more cleavage than usual, probably as much as I saw overseas when a few of her shirt buttons were broken only nowwith the addition of her belly button and those red glossy lips, the ache is a living, breathing beast.
I’m sure relieved all the other males around here are now outside.
“Oh bother,” she complains. “The neanderthal is here. Everyone better run and hide before he beats you up.” She rolls her eyes and moves to the table closest to the dance floor where she takes a big sip of red wine from a stemless wineglass.
Another song comes on, the first line of lyrics singing,
I was on fire for you.
She stares at me for a long minute with a sour look on her face that gets sourer as the song goes on, the lyrics evidently striking a chord for her as she turns her back to me.
The other girls have moved to their table to watch us. Erica. Veronica. Vivica. Audrey. But my sister Gwen grabs her handbag from a nearby table and walks to me.
“Be cool, Jay. Don’t make it worse,” she says.
I grind my teeth.
There’s motion in my periphery. Bailey’s mother along with Mase’s mom Skye appear in the mouth of the hall that leads to the restrooms. Skye whispers something to Carrie and grabs her hand, calling something out to Roxy behind the bar before she pulls her into the kitchen.
My mate now stares at me with her lower lip quivering.Shit. She’s about to cry. And there’s not a thing I can do about it.
My eyes bounce between her and the Youngs.
Erica decides to come my way. “Hey Jase.”
“I’m here to bring her home. It’s about to get rowdy out there and I…” I thrust my hand through my hair frustratedly.
“They cleared out for you,” she says reassuringly. “We came over to keep an eye on things. She’s only been here a little more than an hour. She needed to let loose a little.”
I regard her for a second. She’s not here to tell me off, warn me, or threaten me. She’s trying to reassure me, I think.
Before I can respond, Bailey stomps over. “I told you I was coming to Roxy’s for dinner!” she says and she’s definitely slurring.
“What’d you have for dinner?” I ask.
She twists her lips. “Well, technically I didn’t eat here. But other people were eating.”
“Okay, Bay,’ I say, rubbing my forehead. “You done here or you wanna dance some more?”
She frowns like I’m speaking another language, before she asserts, “I do what I want!”
“You wanna keep dancing, go ahead.” I gesture to the dance floor.
She looks at me like she doesn’t understand.
“Well?” I ask.