Mayhem (Mayhem #1)

“Sex?”


He chuckles and shakes his head some more. “No, sex I’d be okay with. They just want the fame. They want to be able to say that they bagged one of the guys in the band. I’m not interested in a chick that’s going to bang me on a bus on the first night she met me, with my buddies hanging out two feet away, you know what I mean?”

If only Mike knew how close I had come to being one of those chicks. “Yeah” is all I can say.

After we finish the pizza, which I insist on paying for since I actually brought my wallet along this time, Mike walks me back to the club. Inside it looks—and smells—just like I remember it. It’s dark and pinkly lit and smells so strongly of perfume that I might be tempted to wear a gas mask if I had one handy. I don’t know if Emily’s sprays the place down before they open, or if it’s just the smell of all of the trashy girls crammed in here, but the effect is overwhelming.

Mike walks in front of me to part the sea of people as we make our way to the bar. I immediately know where Adam must be sitting because the crowd is much denser there.

“Adam’s over there,” Mike says with a nod in the direction I suspected. “I’m going to hit the bathroom. You cool on your own?”

“Yep. See ya later.”

I weave and squeeze my way between people as I make my way to the end of the bar. I walk until I can’t walk any farther—because I’ve reached a point where people are flat-out refusing to budge, giving me dirty looks for trying to force my way between them. I can see Adam, but there’s no way he’ll hear me from all the way over here. Michelle is still clinging to him, teetering on the edge of the stool next to him, practically tumbling face-first into his lap. There are people standing all around him, girls and guys alike. Frustrated, I stand there and huff.

“Need a little help?”

I look over my shoulder to see Joel. Thank freaking God. I turn around and smile up at him. “Hey.” He has his arm around a brunette, and a girl who looks like her twin sister is clinging to his other side.

“Hey ADAM!” Joel yells over my shoulder, and Adam finally looks up to see us. The crowd follows his line of vision and makes room for us as we walk over. There’s hardly anywhere to stand, but Adam pulls me in close, and I somehow find myself standing right between him and Michelle. My back is to her, and I know she must be seething.

Rowan: 1. Michelle: who the hell cares.

“Tequila shot?” Adam asks with a playful grin, and I look at the bar in front of him to see a few empty shot glasses already lined up.

“Looks like you’ve already had a few.”

“But none with you!” he says. “We need to celebrate!” When he tugs me onto his lap, I squeal and grab his shoulders for balance.

“You haven’t passed the test yet,” I tease.

Adam’s voice is subtly lower when he says, “What will I get when I do?”

Oh my.

I less-than-gracefully fumble off his lap. What was that about? And why is it so goddamn hot in here?

When the bartender takes our order, I ask for a White Russian and Adam orders two unsolicited shots. He either forgot about Michelle or he forgot about me, or maybe he didn’t order one for himself . . . Either way, this is going to be interesting.

“Where is everyone?” I ask. Joel has disappeared, and I have no idea where any of the other guys are.

“Most of the guys are on the dance floor. Shawn went to see about getting us a table, I think. Or to check out the DJ booth. Or, actually, he might be in the bathroom too, maybe . . . I think . . .”

I can’t help chuckling. “You have no idea, do you?”

When Adam shakes his head with a goofy grin on his face, I want to take his cheeks in my hands and kiss him. Or rub noses. Or . . . hell, I don’t know. Something equally ridiculous.

“Adam,” Michelle suddenly says from behind me, reminding me that she’s alive, “come dance with me?”

Adam shakes his head, and I’m not sure if I should count this as 2 for Team Rowan, but I’m going to anyway. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that yet.”

Jamie Shaw's books