“You know?” I gasp. I hadn’t realized she and Rose where all that close. Tread carefully. For all I know, Rose has given her half-truths.
“Yes, everything. From your summer when you were kids, to how you broke her heart and she took her revenge. I know, Ashton. I know her mother is a selfish bitch, and she’s being forced to dance in Declan’s arms tonight. So, make it a little easier on her and stop sulking.”
“I’m not sulking,” I grumble, sounding rather sulky. She raises one manicured brow. “Yeah all right, I’m sulking.” I offer my hand. “Come on, let’s dance.”
Leading Penelope onto the dance floor, the song ends and another one replaces it, the beat slower, more attuned to a slow dance. Placing my right hand on her waist, I then grasp her right hand with my left, and we begin to move to the slow melody. At first, I’m stiff, on edge, but eventually, I find my muscles relaxing and a small smile lifting my lips as we move around the dance floor.
The song fades away, another one taking its place and Penelope stays in my arms, seemingly happy to spend her time with me. I do my best to focus on her, but my gaze roams the couples around us on their own accord, catching glimpses of Declan holding Rose far too close. Our eyes meet across the room, a fleeting second in time where we are connected on a level I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. She doesn’t look unhappy from the outside, yet she is. If you look deep enough, you’ll see the pain. The rage. The roaring fire waiting to be released so it can burn the world to the ground.
She whispers something to Declan and then a second later, Rose is stepping away from him, her heels carrying her swiftly from the dance floor.
“Go,” Penelope urges. “Go see her while you have a chance. I’ll keep Declan busy.”
Letting her go, I stride in the direction Rose took, glancing back once to find Penelope walking up to Declan, and he then taking her into his arms for a dance.
Leaving the main ballroom, I catch a glimpse of her head further down the long hall. Hurrying up, I struggle to keep myself from jogging, hoping I don’t lose her, and then Rose is reaching for my hand, dragging me into a darkened corridor away from the women’s restroom up ahead. She’s silent as she leads me fully into the shadows and I’m taking hold of her waist and pushing her up against the wall as I convey with my lips all that I wish to say.
Breaking apart with a gasp, her chest rises and falls, my gaze falling to the cleavage her dress pushes up on display.
“My face is here,” she whispers, a soft giggle leaving her mouth.
Gliding my hand up her body, I cup her face and raise my eyes to hers. “You look beautiful, Rose.”
“Don’t look too bad yourself,” she answers, grinning. “Kiss me again, Ash. Make me forget where I am.”
There’s a desperation to her plea, a sorrow deep in her eyes that has my heart clenching painfully even as I obey her request. Our lips clash, our tongues dancing together, stirring heat deep inside me. I’m all over her, my mouth, my hands, my body flattening her to the wall. She moans and gasps, clutching me as I do her, and when we break away, I’ve no idea how much time has passed. But from the expression on her face, I know she has no choice but to get back.
“I’m still waiting on that dance,” she whispers, taking a step back and then two. I follow her slowly until she’s in the light and I’m in the dark. I can see her flushed face and the smear of her blood-red lips.
“Rose, your lipstick.”
Her hand flies to her mouth and she smiles. “It’s all over you too.” She laughs.
I watch her go, my heart in my throat, and when she disappears from sight, I head for the men’s restroom to wipe the evidence of her kiss from my face.
Chapter 33
Rose
I take far too long in front of the mirror. Women come and go, eyeing me curiously as I stare at my blood-red lips, smeared and swollen from Ashton’s kiss. I’m reluctant to wipe the evidence of his touch away; sometimes he feels like a fantasy, a daydream in the nightmare that is my life, and I find myself questioning if what we have is real. It’s so easy to forget what is real and what is make believe when your days are spent weaving lies and you don them like a cloak.
“Are you okay, Rose?”
Blinking, I look away from the bathroom mirror and find Camilla next to me, a lip gloss paused midway to her face. “Oh, yes.” She snaps me from my trance and stepping forward, I snag a few paper towels and dampen them to clean my lips.
“Okay… well, I’ll see you back out there.”
Plastering a smile onto my face, I nod before she turns away and busy myself with making sure I don’t look like I was just thoroughly kissed. It doesn’t take long and I’m heading back into the ballroom and straight to the bar.
Ordering two shots, I glare at the barman as he seems like he’s going to ask for ID and thank God when he steps away to fetch my drinks.
The first one goes down, burning my throat and sloshing uncomfortably in my stomach.
“What happened to not drinking?” Grayson murmurs, coming to stand beside me.
Picking up the second shot glass, I study the two eyes glowering at me from behind his muted gold mask, and down the liquid. This one scorches a path down my throat too, but this time I welcome the burn. This time I savor the feeling that is anything but the agony in my chest.
“I underestimated my ability to act,” I mutter. “I’m not getting drunk. Just needed something to get me through the rest of the night.”
He holds out his hand. “Come dance with me.”
Glancing from his hand to his eyes, I throw caution to the wind and take it. “Okay.”
The music has changed since I left the dance floor. The traditional slow dance has been picked up a beat, and couples gyrate against one another as we wind our way through them.
His hands find my waist, pulling me close, his lips brushing near my ear as we begin to sway and twist to the music. “Declan was throwing back drinks while you and Ash were off doing God knows what. Be careful, Rose.”
“You saw us leave?” I ask quietly, my hands gripping him tighter on reflex.
“Only because I was keeping an eye on the both of you. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Ashton seems a little on edge tonight.”
Laughing hollowly, guilt eats away at me. “Yeah, I noticed.”
We don’t talk for the rest of the song and I relax into his hold, feeling safe in the familiarity of his arms. It’s been a while since we danced, and the last time we did, was to make Ashton jealous. Our friendship has come a long way since then, grown and developed and maybe gotten a little complicated. But if there is one thing I know about Grayson Bishop, it’s that if I need him, for whatever reason, he’ll be there. And for someone who claims to not care, to be the bad-boy player without a heart, I know how precious that knowledge is.
“Mind if I cut in?” Ashton asks.
Leaning forward, Grayson presses a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Just warming her up for you, brother.” Grayson smirks.
Ashton punches him playfully in the side and then Grayson is walking away, his laughter drifting through the air. The moment Ash sweeps me up into his arms, the room fades away, the song shifts and changes, becoming more intimate. The beat wraps around me, filling me up along with the chaotic rhythm of my heart.
The dance stretches on into eternity, though lasts just a moment. I should be worried about Declan seeing us or worse, his mother or mine, but with Ashton holding me, none of it matters. He is my hope, my happiness, my fresh start all rolled into one.
“You seemed to have stolen my date, Ashton,” Declan growls.
My stomach plummets but instead of stepping away, Ashton holds me tighter. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk away, Dec,” Ashton replies, his anger barely contained, rumbling threateningly below every syllable.
Pushing into his space, Declan sneers, the stench of alcohol wafting off him, winding Ashton up further.
“Let’s take this outside, gentlemen,”
Grayson drawls, his hand landing firmly on Declan’s shoulder.
“Get the fuck off me,” Declan yells, swinging for Grayson.
Ashton lunges forward, anarchy exploding around me, drawing attention our way. Declan is the only one who is drunk, but Ash and Gray are pumped up on days’ worth of anger, and if I don’t do something in a second, it’s going to turn into a full-blown brawl.
“Enough!” I shout, slipping between them. “Enough!” They don’t seem to hear me. I’m pushed and jarred, a ping pong ball being battered between them. “Please stop.”
My hand finds Ashton’s, his gaze dropping to me as I place my free hand on Declan’s chest to halt his attack. “Not here. Not tonight,” I beg.
Time stops, chests heave, rage bubbles, but it is contained, simmering, ready to explode from below the surface with just one wrong move.
“You don’t have to do this anymore,” Ashton says, pleading.
People are looking; we’re drawing attention. The wrong kind of attention.
“The deal was you were mine for the night, Rose. And the night hasn’t ended,” Declan seethes.
“Fuck your deal, Declan,“ Grayson rasps.
“She’s not a possession to be passed around,” Ashton rumbles, tugging my hand.
“Rose!” my mother hisses, approaching us with quick hurried steps. “You do not make a scene. Not tonight, not on my night.”
Her night… always her and never me….
Declan wraps an arm around my waist, igniting the fuse, but before Ashton and Grayson can explode, I shake my head, stepping back into Declan’s hold as my mind shuts down, becoming detached from my body.
“Please just go,” I whisper. “Please, my mother will kill me if you start a fight over me.” Glancing from Ashton to Grayson, I plead with my eyes, hoping they can see how hard this is for me.
“Come on, Ash,” Grayson murmurs, clasping Ashton’s arm. “Let me buy you a drink.”
They scatter as my mother arrives, and taking my arm, she grips me tightly, her nails pitching my skin. “Declan, darling, would you mind giving me a moment with my daughter.”
He sneers. “Of course, Violet, maybe you can teach her some manners?”
“Yes,’ she tuts. “Quite so.”
“You’re hurting me,” I grind out as she tugs me roughly away.
“I’ll do more than hurt you in a minute. What was that? Of all the nights, you choose today, the evening of my first big event to play those stupid boys against each other.”
“I wasn’t playing anybody, Mother,” I rasp. But she doesn’t hear me; she never does.
“Is this some childish attempt to get my attention? Hmm? Well, bravo, darling, it worked. You almost ruined my night.”
“Everything isn’t about you, Mother!” I snap, ripping myself away from her.
Pointing a finger at me, rage twists her face. “Now you’ll listen to me, you’ll go back onto that dance floor and you’ll not leave Declan’s side. You will ignore those other two buffoons and give Declan your undivided attention. Otherwise you’ll find the freedom I give you, gone. No more parties, no more friends, nothing, Rose. Understood?”
I could argue. Could try to explain and make her listen, but what would be the point? She never hears me. She never has, so I swallow my pride, drop my head and act like the well-behaved girl she expects me to be.
“Yes, Mother,” I sigh. “I understand.”
Declan looks pleased when I return to him. There’s a gleam to his eyes that says he owns me. And maybe he does. After all, my mother gave me to him, didn’t she?
I’m a trinket, a pretty object to be loaned out. I’m not meant to have an opinion or a choice. I’m meant to obey and put a smile on my face while I’m doing it.
Chapter 34
Grayson
“Here, drink this.” Sticking the glass of scotch under Ashton’s nose, I turn my back to the bar beside him to keep Rose in my sights.
“I can’t believe she sided with her mother,” Ashton grumbles, chugging back his drink in one.
“That was vintage scotch, Ashton.” Rolling my eyes, I indicate to the barman to get me another. He doesn’t ask how old I am; he knows. He also knows who my father is. Having an arrogant son of a bitch as a father comes in handy sometimes. “Try and taste this one, huh?”
“I’m drowning my sorrows here, dude,” he complains.
“Well don’t.” I slap him on the back, my gaze never leaving Rose as emotion rolls over her face and then fades to nothing as her mother scolds her as if she’s a toddler. “We’ve still got a job to do and you’re not going to be able to do that if you’re blind drunk.” Sighing deeply, I continue, “Give her a break, Ash. she took the only choice she had available to her.”
“She could have let me beat the crap out of him,” he mutters, taking a slower sip of his drink.
“And cause a scene for her mother to hold over her head?” I arch a brow. He needs to get over his pity fest.
“I don’t understand why she doesn’t tell her mom to fuck off.” Turning in his seat, Ashton leans his elbows on the bar behind, sighing deeply as he too watches Rose.
Declan’s back, the smirk on his face triumphant. My fists ball, desperately wishing they could turn to violence as he takes Rose back onto the dance floor, plastering himself far too close to her body.
“You won’t understand, Ash, because Summer is kind and decent and nothing like Violet. Rose sent us away because we were the only ones who would go and not hold it against her.”
Ashton will never truly understand what it was like to have a parent who manipulates instead of guides, who puts their own selfish needs above their child’s, but I do, and I know just how hard it was to walk away.
“I just want to make things better for her. For things to be right between us,” Ashton explains longingly. “This world, these fucking games… they are what destroyed us in the first place.”
Squeezing his shoulder, I answer, “I know, brother. I know.”
And yet a small part of me is dreading the day Ashton and Rose get back together, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t ignore the fraction of my heart that longs to take his place. That longs to be the one who fixes her world.
“Grayson.”
My gaze shoots up towards the hypnotic purr calling my name. Studying the senior that saunters my way, my expression morphs automatically, eyes darkening, lips lifting, roguish charm dripping off me.
“Lara,” I reply, my word a rough whisper. “Enjoying the party, sweetheart?”
Ashton scoffs beside me, mumbling something under his breath, but my attention is fixed on the redheaded beauty trailing a finger up my chest, a coy grin pulling up her full, biteable lips.
“I’ll be enjoying it even more,” she begins, flattening herself against me. “When” —her hand skims down my body, palming my already hardening dick over my dress slacks— “we’ve found a nice quiet corner to talk in.”
Gasping as she squeezes me, her heated green gaze telling me talking is not her intention, I curl my arm around her tiny waist.
“Talk, huh?” I raise a brow. “That could be interesting.”
Ashton clears his throat, coughing under his breath. “Are you forgetting something?”
Damn it.
Lara looks from Ashton to me. “Gray?” The heat already fading from her eyes, disappointment and annoyance taking its place.
“Regretfully, I’m going to have to decline,” I begin.
She grips me tighter in my pants, making me regret my words. “Really?”
Taking her wrist, I gently tug her away from my prized jewels before her annoyance turns into anger. “Sorry, beautiful, but unfortunately, I’m on babysitting duty.” I crook a thumb in Ashton’s direction.
Eyes narrowing, Lara glares at Ashton. “He’s a big boy. He’ll survive without you for half an hour.”
Ashton sighs dramatically into his drink. “Gray, don’t leave me,” he starts with mock desperation. “I’
ve got the sudden urge to go off myself.”
I smack Ashton over the head as he laughs, and Lara backs away from me with a frustrated growl.
“You know,” she says, looking at me from head to toe, “it’s true what they’re saying.”
“What?” I straighten, eyes widening. “What are they saying?”
She laughs callously. “That the great Grayson Bishop is broken. And it seems they’re right.” Turning on her heel, she marches away, leaving me staring after her with equal parts disbelief and rage.
“I’m not broken,” I yell, causing Ashton to burst out laughing.
Turning toward him, I shove him off his bar stool, which he finds even more amusing and then I scull the rest of his drink. “God damn it, Ash, look what you’re doing to me!”
“Don’t blame me for your tarnished street cred. I haven’t stopped you from sleeping around. Who was that anyway? I’ve never seen her before.”
“Lara? She’s a senior. On the swim team I believe.”
He shakes his head, rubbing his face as if wiping away his laughter. “Jesus, bro, even seniors want to fuck you?”
Shrugging, I gain my composure and readjust myself in my pants. “Apparently, not anymore. I can’t believe girls are saying there’s something wrong with me.”
“Don’t worry about it, bro,” he says, patting me on the back. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty mo— Hey, where’s Rose?”
My heart instantly drops, and we are both on our feet, scanning the dance floor. My gaze flickers over faces, searching frantically, and then I see her and my system reboots, relief flooding my lungs with air. “There. She’s there. On the edge of dance floor, Penelope and Camilla chatting with her.”
“Fuck,” Ashton curses, slumping a little. “Where’s dick face?”
“I don’t know,” I answer absently, continuing the search. “There, with Simon. Motherfucker’s clearly hammered.”
“She’s moving,” he says. “Toilets I guess.” As the words leave his mouth, our phones chime one after another. “Yup, that’s her. She’s going with Pen.”
The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2) Page 18