by Jenn Hype
Why do I keep comparing him to fictional characters that suffer from some kind of bipolar disorder?
If only I were the kind of girl who was comfortable flirting with a guy just to make someone else jealous. Though now that I think about it, playing games just to get a reaction out of someone sounds incredibly immature and not at all like something I want to do. No, what I really wish is that I would meet someone else that actually drew my attention away from Wyatt, someone I was truly interested in, even though dating isn’t necessarily high on my priority list.
Garrett is definitely attractive in a pretty boy, surfer kind of way, but not really my type physically. He’s apparently Keegan’s type though, if her blushing and giggling are any indication. Seeing Keegan all shy and nervous is a side of her I’ve not yet seen. It’s makes me feel better to know I’m not the only one who gets a little unnerved around attractive men.
When Garrett takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on my knuckles, a blush creeps up my cheeks. My eyes automatically flicker over to Wyatt in time to see him avert his gaze, like he’s trying really hard not to look at me.
“Where are you stunning beauties headed to tonight?” Garrett’s question elicits another giggle from Keegan, but I’m too distracted to hear her response. I’m already back to trying to flag down a cab and then cursing every single one of them that keep going as if I’m invisible. Is it so much to ask for just a little distance, a small reprieve from the anxiety and confusion and rage and lust I feel every time Wyatt is near?
Apparently it is, because my underworked arm muscles are burning from me franticly waving at cabs like a crazed person. Maybe that’s the problem - all the drivers think I’m just saying hello instead of trying to get a ride somewhere. At this point I’d rather call it a night and go back upstairs for a hot soak in the tub, but the second I tune back into the conversation and hear yet another giggle, I know there’s no way she is going to let that happen for me.
“We were just gonna head to a bar down the street, but how could we possibly decline an invitation to go dancing with two gorgeous women, right Wy?” This guy is laying it on a little thick, in my opinion, but Keegan looks a little too smitten to notice - or care. Garrett’s too busy making sexy eyes at Keegan to turn around to look at Wyatt, so he doesn’t see the murderous glare Wyatt is giving the back of his head, but I do. Jerk.
One flick of Garrett’s wrist and not ten seconds later two cabs come to a stop right in front of us. No one notices my exaggerated eye roll. Freaking cab drivers. Keegan and I take the first cab and agree to meet them at the club, and I don’t even wait until the cab pulls away from the curb before I start laying into her.
“What the hell! Why did you invite them? You know how badly things went with Wyatt. You know! I wanted to spend the night trying to forget how much things suck with Wyatt, not spend it being pissed at how he’s working so hard to ignore me even though he’s the one who was a jerk!” The cab driver gives me a funny look in the rearview mirror when I let loose an animalistic growl when Keegan’s response is to roll her eyes and flick her wrist at me dismissively.
“Whatever, your night went great. Trust me, you don’t want to pass up the opportunity to shake your cute ass in front of Wyatt.”
“Were you even listening when I told you what happened? What exactly was so great about him suddenly turning into a massive dickhead and then taking off? I may not have any past experiences to compare it to, but I’m pretty sure if things had been great, then I wouldn’t be so freaking angry at the thought of spending more time with him. And if you hadn’t been so distracted making googly eyes at Garrett then you would have noticed just how much Wyatt doesn’t want to be around me either.”
My rant actually helped me feel a little better, and so did spending the whole ride to the club pouting with my arms crossed while quietly plotting my revenge on Keegan for putting me in this horrible situation. I can understand why kids are so prone to tantrums.
When Keegan yanks me out of the cab and drags me inside, it’s decided - screw daiquiris, I need some hard liquor. Time to work on building up my tolerance to alcohol. “I’ll have two of whatever will get me drunk the quickest!” I yell to the bartender.
“No she won’t. She’ll take an appletini,” Keegan tells the bartender who makes a hasty retreat before I can argue with her. Whatever. I’m too distracted by Wyatt and the fact that he hasn’t quit staring at me since he walked in, and how much I wish he was avoiding making eye contact like he was before. It’s really unnerving to catch someone looking at you, and them not look away.
Avoiding him has been a nightmare. He was even waiting right outside the bathroom door when I came out a few minutes ago, though that time he at least had the decency to pretend like he was doing something else when I walked out.
Things are tense and awkward between us and we still haven’t said one word to each other. It’s starting to really grate on my nerves not knowing what the hell his problem is, but I’m nowhere near confident enough to just come out and ask him. Eventually it gets too much to handle, so instead of addressing the elephant in the club, I just grab Keegan’s hand and drag her out to the dance floor with me.
I can feel Wyatt’s eyes on me the whole time we dance. Every time I glance in his direction, his eyes are narrowed and hard, like he’s scrutinizing every move I make. Garrett keeps trying to talk to him, but I’m not sure if Wyatt even hears him because he’s too busy acting like an asshole to notice.
Letting the song take over my senses, I close my eyes and try to block out thoughts of Wyatt, but it’s not even half a song before the feeling of him staring at me becomes too much to bear. He’s not at the table with Garrett anymore, though, and I spin around looking for him only to come up empty. He must have gone to get a drink or to the bathroom or something. So why do I still feel like someone’s watching me?
Keegan’s found herself a dance partner and is otherwise occupied, and I spot Garrett talking to a tall brunette next to the bar, but still no sign of Wyatt. Something grabs my attention out of my periphery, and my head jerks to the right. It’s too dark to see his face, but I can tell his build that it’s not Wyatt, and I don’t know how I know since I can’t see his eyes, but I’m absolutely certain he’s staring at me. Standing stock still in the middle of the dance floor, I engage the dark stranger in some sort of uncomfortable stare down. Goosebumps spread over every inch of my skin, and not the good kind.
It’s possible I’m being paranoid, though I don’t know where the paranoia would be coming from, but something about the dark stranger has my whole body locked up tight in fear. Pulling from a bravery deep inside me that I didn’t know existed, I take a step towards him, but when he notices he quickly disappears into the crowd.
Probably not the best decision I ever made, but I have to know who he is and why he was staring at me, so I go after him. After searching for a few minutes it’s clear I’m never going to find him. Even if I did come across him, I didn’t get a look at his face, so I would have no idea what he looks like.
“Miss,” one of the waiters that tend to the tables says to me, holding out an appletini, waiting for me to take it.
“Oh, thank you,” I say absent mindedly, assuming Keegan just ordered me another one and pointed him in my direction. Weird, though, because she’s still out on the dance floor. Maybe it was Wyatt or Garrett? I turn back to ask the waiter who ordered it, but he’s already gone. Luckily the crowd parts for a second and I spot Garrett back at our table.
My drink sloshes a little a few drops spilling over the top, dripping down my wrist. I lick up the green liquid, trying to avoid getting it on my borrowed clothes from Keegan, and continue to inch my way closer to the guys. The second I hear one of them shout my name, I down a big gulp of my drink, needing the liquid courage to be able to handle whatever I’m about to overhear.
“What do you think you’re doing Wyatt!? You’re going to screw everything up and you know he will k
ill you if he finds out. You need to find a way to make this just a job, man. Disassociate. I’m not spending all my time cooped up in a fucking van…”
“Hey guys,” I interrupt, not wanting to eavesdrop any more than I already have. “Thanks to whichever of you bought me the drink.” Raising my glass in a toasting gesture, I take another big gulp, spilling a good amount of it on my dress when it’s ripped out of my hands.
“What the hell, Wyatt?”
“We didn’t buy you a drink. I thought you were out there dancing with Keegan!” Wyatt’s practically screaming at me, then he starts muttering to himself and looking around like he’s trying to find someone or something to punch.
“What’s the big deal? Maybe a guy bought it for me,” I offer meekly with a shrug. I was just trying to make him calm down, but my suggestion only makes him angrier.
Screw him. I’m not going to stand here and keep being subjected to his pissy attitude. Spinning around, I grab the first guy I see, yanking on the neck of his shirt to bring his face down to mine. “Wanna dance?” His eyes widen, probably taken aback by my forwardness, but he nods his head and lets me drag him out to the dance floor.
We walk up next to Keegan, who joins in when she sees us dancing. I’m not really interested in dancing up close and personal with anyone, let alone a stranger, I just wanted to piss off Wyatt and get away from him for a minute. As luck would have it, the random guy I forced onto the dance floor also happens to be really freaking hot, so when the effects of the alcohol start to kick in and my thoughts go fuzzy, I give in to his advance. His hands find my hips and I don’t hesitate to lean in closer to him and close my eyes, thankful to have a body helping me stand since I’m starting to feel a little woozy.
My first drink of the night barely did anything to me, but this second drink is kicking my ass. I’m about to excuse myself for a minute, but then I feel his hands start to roam out of the neutral zone and down to my ass. It feels like the world is moving in slow motion, and for some reason my arm isn’t getting the signal to slap this guy’s hand away from areas where it’s uninvited.
Turns out I don’t need to slap him away, because I’m suddenly being yanked away from him and being pulled off the dance floor.
“Hey man!” My dance partner shouts at Wyatt, pulling on my other arm hard enough to yank me backwards and tear me from Wyatt’s grasp. Since I’ve lost control of my own limbs, being tossed around like a ragdoll puts the world at a tilt, and I fall sideways into another patron, causing his beer to spill all down his shirt.
“It’s his fault!” I yell defensively and point with a weak arm towards Wyatt, who’s got ahold of my arm again. The big guy covered in beer gets in Wyatt’s face long enough to distract him, and I yank out of his grip. Okay, maybe I didn’t yank so much as gave in to gravity, because when Wyatt lets go of me to ward off the angry beer guy, my legs give out and down I go.
I don’t make it all the way to the ground, though. Oh, no. Wyatt in all his knight-in-shining-armor glory comes to my rescue once again, scooping me up and throwing my arm around his shoulders.
“It’s time to go, Brailey,” is all Wyatt says before he starts pulling me to the exit again.
“Keegan!” I yell-slash-slur, not wanting to leave without telling her where I’m going.
“Garrett’s got her,” Wyatt says over his shoulder as he walks out of the club and into the cool night air. The bright blue dress Keegan made me wear is short and sleeveless, made of a thin fabric that’s covered in matching lace, and it does little to ward off the cold air, causing my skin to break out into goosebumps.
Wyatt hails a cab quickly and holds the door open for me to climb in, then he surprises me by pulling me into his arms after he gets in after me. His hands are rubbing up and down my arms vigorously while my cheek is pressed tightly to his hard chest. He smells amazing and feels even better, and the last of my defenses vanish when I feel his cheek come down to rest on top of my head.
I relax and lean into him, my eyes getting heavy and harder to keep open as the seconds tick by. I must have drifted to sleep because I’m suddenly being lifted out of the cab and carried up the stairs, cradled in his ridiculously strong arms. Wyatt digs my keys out of my purse, which he must have thought to grab before we left the club because I certainly didn’t have it in my hands when he tore me out of the building.
After kicking the door closed behind us he walks over to the couch and gently lays me down. I miss the warmth of his body as soon as he pulls away and I reach out to him, snagging his arm and trying to pull him back to me. My arms feel as heavy as lead, and as soon as I tug on him, my hand slips off and hits the side of the couch with a loud thud.
“Where are you going?” My words are slurred and my voice is whiny, and I might actually care if I wasn’t too busy trying to find the energy to even breathe.
“Home,” he responds curtly, but he makes no effort to keep moving.
“Stay with me,” I mumble weakly.
I lose the battle to keep my eyes open, but I remain awake, and I feel Wyatt scoop me up into his arms and pull me to his chest once again. It feels like being wrapped up in a warm, sexy, irritating cocoon. When he tries to place me on the bed he has to go down with me, because I cling to him with all the energy I have left, refusing to let him put any space between us.
“You can let go, I’m not going anywhere. Promise,” he whispers.
His voice is sweet and reassuring, a total contrast to how he’s acted the whole night. I feel the bed dip as he makes himself comfortable next to me, never loosening his hold. I’m so unbelievably tired and still can’t open my eyes, but I somehow manage to move my body closer to his - or maybe he pulls me closer, I can’t tell at this point. I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in deeply. My lips are touching his skin and I want so badly to place a kiss to his neck, but by the grace of God, even in my drunken stupor, I manage to resist.
His heart is beating hard and loud in my ear and his body stiffens a little when I drape my arm over his waist and force my leg in between his thighs, effectively removing whatever small space still remained between us. The small movements steal every last bit of energy left in me and I sigh deeply and relax even further into him, treating him like my own personal body pillow.
“Are you an angel?” My words come out a little slurred, either from being tired or the alcohol, I’m not sure which. I feel Wyatt’s laugh rumble in his chest and it makes me smile.
“What?”
“Are you an angel?” I ask again, my voice almost a whisper as I fight to hold sleep off for a few more minutes.
“Why would you ask that?” His voice is soothing and I feel his hand start to stroke my hair, making me even more sleepy.
“I don’t know. Bad things are just always happening to me. Only you…you’re always there, always saving me, taking care of me. I just thought maybe you were an angel.”
He whispers something in my ear, but I’m already being sucked under, unable to fight off sleep any longer.
Chapter Eight
What the ever-loving-hell is wrong with me?
Last I checked, my eyes fit perfectly within their sockets, so why do they feel like they’ve grown about ten sizes too big for my face all of a sudden? Pretty sure I’m either seriously dehydrated, or someone was scrubbing my tongue with sandpaper while I was sleeping. I really don’t remember joining the MMA, so why does it feel like my body took the beating of a lifetime? Also, whoever is making that stupid ringing sound needs to stop before my ears start bleeding.
I’d like to open my eyes and make sure I haven’t fallen down the rabbit hole and landed in some crazy-ass world where everything spins and gravity is about a hundred times more powerful than normal, but unless that creepy caterpillar is going to be waiting for me with an explanation, I think I’ll just stay right here in bed.
My bladder, however, has different plans for me. Halfway to my bedroom door I hear voices. No, not the crazy kind that live in your head. Actual
voices.
“Yeah I sent it in for testing, and you were right.”
“Five minutes. Five fucking minutes I asked you to keep an eye on her for me, Garrett, while I took a leak and this happens. I should have your head.”
Wyatt’s doing his best to keep his voice down, but it doesn’t do anything to lessen the bite of his words. If anything, it makes him sound more menacing. I would hate to be in Garrett’s shoes right now.
I push the door open a little wider, not for the sole purpose of eavesdropping, but because…okay whatever, I’m eavesdropping. They don’t want me to hear what they’re saying? Then they should have thought about having their conversation somewhere other than my living room.
“Where is she? Is she okay? How the hell did you let this happen, Wyatt!?” Keegan comes bursting through the door and goes straight up to Wyatt, pushing his chest as hard as she can. He doesn’t even budge. Keegan would have better luck trying to move a brick wall.
Wyatt puts up with the shoving for a minute, but when her movements get frantic, he grabs her wrists and holds them firmly up in front of her. Keegan struggles just a little before choking back a sob.
“Just tell me she’s okay,” she says quietly, her voice cracking. Wyatt releases her and she takes a step back, squaring her shoulders.
“She’s fine. She’ll be dehydrated and weak for a day or so, but no permanent damage or anything.”
“Why would someone do this to her?” I hear Keegan ask.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m taking care of it.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna have to give me more than that. This shit’s too crazy for me to take your word on it. I get that you like being mysterious and broody and all that, but I don’t know you. More importantly, I don’t know if I can trust you, so unless you can give me a reason to trust you, then you can bet your sweet, delicious ass that I’m not going to let Brailey go anywhere near you.”