Page 18

Liza

C ontrary to popular belief, I’m usually not as drunk as I act.

I have an alcohol tolerance that rivals a forty-year-old man with a beer belly.

It’s not about how many drinks I can down to black out, it’s about the fun of dancing, meeting new people, letting loose, and forgetting about it the next morning.

"I Came Here for Love" blasts across the bar that’s at max capacity with how we’re packed together like sardines on the dance floor.

That’s when I lock eyes with the man I can’t keep my head on straight around.

His hair is darker due to the lighting and the sweat he has dripping down his neck.

He’s smirking and biting his bottom lip without taking his eyes off me.

How long has he been watching me? The thought of Hartley’s eyes on me as I throw myself around the dance floor, not leaving much to the imagination, has heat creeping up my neck.

I coat my hands with the wet condensation that drips from my plastic cup and wipe it over my cheeks and neck.

If he wants a show, he’ll get one. I wiggle my finger for him to join me.

Without hesitation, he pushes through the sea of bodies until he’s pressed against me. He leans in and tucks a piece of damp hair behind my ear before whispering, “Hey, Goldie.”

Why does his voice have to be so hot? Get. It. Together. Liza.

“Watching me, Hotshot?” I’m well aware that I’m treading into very dangerous territory. Not only is Hartley the boy I packed away in a far corner of my mind to protect my heart, but he’s also my tutoring student. Why not blur the lines more?

“Always,” rolls off his slick tongue. I turn around and press my back to his chest, taking my eyes off him to hone in to the rhythm of the music. Before I can sway to the fast paced song, he flips my body around to face him again, our faces too close to touching.

“You’re wearing my jersey,” he growls, tilting his neck to the side.

“I am.” I smirk, knowing this has some sort of effect on him.

He jolts my back to his chest again, landing flush to the heat radiating from his hard body.

His arm climbs up my side, grazing a sliver of my stomach until he makes it to my neck, coated with heat and goosebumps that have nothing to do with the temperature of the bar.

His enormous hand travels a few inches down to my shoulder, and he grips tight.

His mouth hovers over the shell of my ear before he says, “When you wear my jersey, you’re mine.

” My head tilts back to rest on his chiseled body, and I betray myself by letting out a desperate moan that only Hartley can hear.

“If you’re not ready to be mine, don’t tease me like this.

” He balls the extra fabric of his jersey on my body into his fist and tugs on it.

Despite how intense this interaction is, I manage to fire back with a sultry roll of the tongue, “I’m not anyone’s, and I never will be.

” I suddenly feel the loss of his warmth pressed against my body.

Turning around to see where he went, I only catch the back of his hat bouncing through the crowd.

I’m left stunned silent in the middle of the dance floor by the man who was only ever supposed to be my friend.

No. He’s not going to walk away like that.

This is exactly why I don’t need to get involved with him.

He’ll become an unhealthy obsession I can’t kick. Just. Like. Layne.

Scooting to the calmer edge of the chaotic scene closest to the bar top, I wait patiently for Hartley to reappear from wherever he ran off to.

After what feels like forever, standing by myself, I catch sight of his back on the dance floor.

Is that. . . Yep. He’s cozied up with a bleach blonde.

From the looks of it, she’s shorter than me, so she fits perfectly under the crook of his overextended arm.

They inch closer and closer. Fresh bile rises to my tongue at the sight of her giggling and throwing her arms around his neck.

I can’t watch this. Frantic to one up him and drown the image away, I fumble over to the table the football team claims for the night and spot my golden ticket.

“Locke,” I call out to my on-again-off-again boy. His eyes dart around, unable to find who called his name, so I raise my voice louder. “Locke!”

His eyes meet mine and that ridiculous mullet bounces as he saunters from the table towards me.

“What’s up, babe?” He’s so casually unbothered at all times. This is exactly what I need to get my mind off Hartley’s intensity.

“Kiss me.” I grab his veiny forearms and pull him closer to my chest. “And don’t ask questions.

” He locks his muscular arms around my waist and leans in for a fiery kiss.

His tongue darts out, and I grant him access to my mouth while his other hand grips one of my legs to lift it up to his height.

By the time we both pull away from the sloppy kiss, my hair is tussled and I quickly swipe under my eye to check the eyeliner situation.

To my horror, it smeared. Peering to the side, I scan the bar, hoping my intended audience is watching.

That’s when I spot him. There he stands staring directly at me with his blonde hair, mossy eyes, and an expression I can’t quite read painted on his face.

He isn’t wearing his usual boyish grin and showing off his million dollar dimples.

He suddenly tears his eyes from mine and shakes his head, taking him out of the moment.

He removes his ball cap for a brief moment to run his hand through his thick waves before jetting to the back exit.

The feeling of revenge I wanted doesn’t hit. Instead, guilt tumbles over me like a tidal wave. Shoot. I didn’t mean to create that much of a show. Locke wipes his lips and winks while I purse my lips and roll my eyes at myself for being so petty.

“Kiss me like that and I’ll never ask questions.” He laughs as I give him a playful shove, letting him know he served his purpose for the night.

I grunt and waltz past him. “You’re annoying.

” I lose sight of Hartley in the packed crowd, but I want to find him, so I push and shove through the gyrating bodies of sweat and sin.

Standing on my tiptoes, I search for a backward hat and unruly blonde hair, but I come up short.

Outside is the next logical place to check, so I squeeze into the thin, dark hallway housing the dinghy one-stall bathrooms until I reach the back door across from the storage closet.

Pushing the heavy door open, I walk outside to the courtyard connected to the bar that very few people visit.

It’s nice and peaceful when you need a moment away from the head pounding music and musty heat of a packed bar.

Sitting on the cool cement, head hanging between his bent knees is Hartley.

He doesn’t notice me, so I take a moment to bask in his presence.

A glass beer bottle sits next to him, he picks up the dripping long neck to take a swig before pummeling it into the brick wall across from him with a loud crash.

Not able to help myself, I jump in. “What’s your problem?”

His eyes, bloodshot from the liquor, bore into mine with anger and confusion written all over his blown out pupils. “ My problem?” He grunts and shakes his head incredulously. “If you think I’m the one with the problem, you’re farther out of touch than I thought.”

“Excuse me?”

He reaches for the plastic cup sitting next to him and swirls his drink around a few times before gulping the remnants and sending it flying behind the broken bottle. “You heard me.”

I cross my arms over my chest and walk closer to him, now standing above the lunatic. “Are you jealous because I kissed Locke?”

Tell me you’re just as jealous as I was.

Placing his hands on the ground, he lifts himself up and backs me up until my back touches the bricks. His arms fall on both sides, locking me in with him. “Yes.”

“Why?” I hiss.

“Because this is a game I don’t think I’m interested in playing anymore.”

“Unbelievable!” I shout louder in his face. Since no one is out here, I allow my bubbling frustrations to rise to the surface. “I told you from day one that I can’t commit, and here you are throwing bottles at the wall because of it.”

A menacing smirk passes over his face, as if he has the upper hand, “That’s not why I’m losing my mind, Goldie.

” His warm breath tickles my cheek, making my body painfully aware of his closeness.

“It’s the fact that you want me the way I want you, but you won’t allow yourself to give in.

” Leaning closer, he whispers, “I lose my head when I know that I’m the clear choice, but he gets to taste your lips on his.

” My body betrays me as a quick gasp escapes my traitorous lips.

“He’s nothing but a distraction.”

“A distraction.” He pushes off the wall, putting distance between us, and I almost whine at the loss. “From what? You being with me?”

“No!” My back is still pressed against the cool brick wall where he left me, and my legs unable to move to him.

He takes a few steps back toward me. His body heat engulfs my space once again. “You’re lying.” He’s challenging me to back down and give in to my desire for him, but I won’t. I can’t.

“I don’t care who you speak to, kiss, or hook up with.” I step into his space with pure confidence, calling his bluff.

“If you don’t care. I guess I need to find a distraction for the night. Just like you did.”

My jaw clenches as I bite my tongue so I don’t plead for him not to do just that. “Go right ahead. I’m leaving, anyway.”

“Fine,” he snickers.

“Fine!” It’s officially time to go before I continue to make rash decisions to make a boy I have no intention of dating, jealous.

I storm out to the parking lot before I take a seat on the curb to shoot a quick text to Violet asking if she’s ready before throwing my hands in the air in annoyance. I walk toward the gate.

Violet: I left with Ryan (tongue out emoji)

Me: Yessssss. Have fun. I’m headed home all by my lonesome :(

Violet: ngnkslnkdsjvi

Violet: Srrrrrryy I didn’t lock my phone

Me: Lol talk to you tomorrow chica ;)

I knew those two were inevitable. I switch to the rideshare app and request a car.

I’m not in the mood to walk back to the dorms by myself tonight, and I’m certainly not in the mood to watch the show that Hartley’s promised.

I’m a tipsy mess, and I need to figure out what to do with the feelings brewing inside me as soon as possible.