Page 6 of Beg for It

CHAPTER SIX

BLAIR

The crowd paves a path for Eli and Evan as they meander through the tipsy bodies.

They treat him like a live wire—one touch and they’ll be gone.

Evan is a golden retriever, a sweetheart whom everyone loves.

But Eli? He is the lone wolf, or so everyone thought when he’d first transferred to our school.

Brett had spent months complaining about his new stepbrother and stepmom.

The summer had been filled with rumors passing around from friend group to friend group about the alleged messed-up weirdo who was his new stepbro.

The entire school knew Eli’s name before he’d stepped through the doors.

Even I had built up this belief that I didn’t like him, that he was the creepy asshole Brett had talked him up to be.

Brett has a way of rallying people, of inciting the masses and encouraging them to follow him. It has been that way all our lives and still is.

Eli never stood a chance against his malice.

But Brett never anticipated that he would eventually snap.

I suppress the shiver that threatens to take over my body, downing the last of my drink and drowning memories of the past threatening to resurface.

I attempt to focus back on the conversation, to join in on all the gossip they have about everyone back in town.

Rachel broke up with Trent because he skipped their anniversary for a baseball game.

Evelyn got blacked out at her sorority formal and threw up everywhere and is now on probation.

Kyle slept with his situationship’s roommate and got caught mid-bang by the boyfriend.

Hugh dropped out and is about to go backpacking across Europe to “find himself.” So on and so forth.

I let Tess fill my empty vodka soda glass with beer from the table pitcher and use the drink as a shield for my unease. But I can’t shake off this feeling like someone is watching me. My skin prickles, an awareness needling down to the bone. It crawls over me, taunting me, teasing me.

I bite my lower lip so hard, I start to taste blood.

Shit.

“Blair, you good?”

My eyes flick up to Michelle.

“Yeah, sorry. Too much booze. I’m going to use the restroom.”

She cocks her head in that direction. “Want me to come?”

I give her a reassuring smile, appreciative of the offer but desperate for some space to just breathe.

“I’ll be two seconds. Don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Want me to bring you anything back?”

“Want to get a round of Long Islands?”

That sounds like an awful idea, but I’d rather avoid seeming any more off kilter than I already do.

“Easy.”

I snag my purse from the table and hook it around my shoulder. The bar has gotten increasingly packed over the last hour or so, more and more people filtering in from God knows where.

I am just about to break through the crowd when my purse catches on something. I give it a decent tug, and when it finally releases, I pitch forward without warning. My feet struggle to keep me upright, and my shoulder knocks into an unsuspecting body.

I watch with horror as a full can of beer hits the ground with a hiss, liquid spraying everything.

“Shit.”

I bend down immediately, hand grabbing the can and fingers locating the split where the beer is shooting out from. I stopper it with my thumb as a temporary fix. With a sad, apologetic smile, I stand back up to offer to buy whoever it is a new one.

“So sorry, I didn’t—”

The words catch in my throat at the ice blue eyes before me. That soulless stare freezes me, chilling me right to the bone.

Speak, Blair.

“I’ll buy,” I choke out.

That isn’t even a proper sentence.

Great. I probably pissed him off even more.

“It’s fine.”

My body melts. Something about those two words thaws the ice filling my lungs. I relax, the paranoia and fear trickling away drop by drop.

Eli Cross looks a lot different than he did when we graduated.

His dark brown hair has grown out, strands falling over his forehead in a messy but hot way.

The slit in his right brow is still there—not an aesthetic choice but rather a remnant of a brawl between his crew and Brett’s.

His jaw is stronger, and he’s somehow grown another few inches.

He is wearing a black hoodie, but I can tell he’s filled out, too.

Just how much muscle is he hiding under there?

Shit. What am I thinking?

This is Eli freaking Cross. Evil Eli. I’m not supposed to be thinking that sort of thing.

“You good, princess?”

There it is again. Every word he speaks swirls something deep inside me. It is as though my body is having some automatic reaction to him. I am heating up. The shadows under my skin swirling in response. This isn’t normal. Something is wrong.

Eli is dangerous. Not the sexy bad boy kind but the his-friend-will-visit-you-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-smash-your-windshield-with-a-baseball-bat-as-a-warning kind of dangerous. I’ve seen it before. And I’m not naive enough to believe he’s changed.

Being around him is bad news.

He reaches forward to take the can from my hands. His skin brushes mine, just a mere graze of fingertips. My body recoils like I’ve been splashed by hot oil, a burn running the entire length of my arm.

I suck in a gasp, the can releasing from my grip. The spray shoots out again, hitting me square in the neck before Eli effortlessly catches it midair and cuts off the stream. He tosses out a lazy smirk, and I avert my gaze to the ground.

“You seem a little out of it.”

“I’m fine. I’ve just…had a bit too much to drink.”

Yeah. That’s it. Too much to drink. That is the reason I feel so hot and my brain is mush. The liquor has messed up my system. I drank a double vodka soda and beer on a mostly empty stomach since I have to fit back into that damn corset again tomorrow.

He reaches out yet again, but this time I stay stock still. He swipes his thumb up the curve of my neck with a tantalizing touch, stopping only once he gets to my jaw. My nipples pebble, my traitorous body wanting to push forward, but I fight against it.

He brings the pad of his thumb to his lips, and I watch as his tongue darts out with a lick.

I struggle to swallow, mesmerized by the motion.

“You had a little beer there.”

“Oh.” I flick my gaze at him as I bring my hand up, placing it over the path he’d traced. A damp stickiness remained. “Thanks.”

Why is he looking at me like that?

Why is there so much heat in his eyes when all I’ve ever seen is ice?

Why…

Snap out of it, Blair.

This is Eli. He hates your friends, and he hates you. He’d almost gotten Brett, Riley, and D’Andre sent to the E.R. that one day. You need to ignore the pull. You need to forget him. You need to back away.

Now.

My feet finally get the memo, shuffling half an inch back.

Eli’s brow twitches up at the miniscule movement.

I feel like a bunny caught in a trap, and the wolf is watching, waiting…playing.

Run.

I don’t give myself another second to guess; I just go on instinct. I swivel in my boots, pushing my way back through the crowd with zero decorum. An elbow clocks my boob and beer sloshes onto my sleeve, but I don’t relent.

I break free at the booths, and all heads turn to me.

“You didn’t get the Long Islands?” Michelle takes in my empty hands, not noting my frazzled state.

“I’m feeling sick. I’m going to head home.”

“Need a ride?” Riley stands up from the booth, and my brain screams in response.

“Nope, just going to steal my brother to take us back.” I thread a smile across my face. “See y’all.”

I sidestep to the opposite booth before they can hound me with any more questions and grip Josh’s flannel. He shoves my hand away with a grunt.

“Hey, what’s your iss—” His pissed off expression melts once he realizes it’s me. “Bee.”

“It’s time to go home.”

“But—”

“I want. To go. Home.”

Clarity pools in his eyes, and he excuses himself from his friends, promising to catch up later. I don’t even care enough to lecture him. He wraps a protective arm around me as we push our way back out of the bar.

The night air is crisp, and the walk back to Josh’s car helps recalibrate my mind from the absolute cluster it had devolved into.

“You smell like beer.”

“We were in a bar,” I huff.

“You feel like beer.”

“That doesn’t even—oh, you mean my sleeve.” I shrug out of his hold and bring my elbow to my nose.

Just great.

My face scrunches up at the telltale stench. I am either going to have to sneak this into the wash without our mother noticing or stash it somewhere she won’t find or smell it between now and Sunday.

“You sure you’re fine, Bee?” He opens the passenger door for me.

“Just tired.”

I can tell he wants to press me, but he shuts the door without saying another word. I settle against the leather seats, trying to avoid inhaling the beer stench and emptying my brain of anything to do with Eli Cross.