Grabbing the back of my sweatshirt, I pulled it over my head, slipping my arms out, and tossed it to Kai. I mussed the hem of my tight, gray tank top, bringing it up to show an inch of stomach, and fluffed my hair, trying to give it some temporary volume or sexy chaos or whatever.
“After you see me take him into the bathroom,” I told them, checking the rest of my clothes, “give me a minute and then follow.”
And then I looked up, checking for confirmation that they’d heard, and froze.
“What?” I asked in a low voice.
Four sets of eyes stared, their intense gazes falling down my body as if they’d never seen a girl before.
Kai tried to look away, but he kept stealing glances with narrowed eyes, as if he were almost angry, and Damon looked at me like I was naked.
Will’s eyebrows rose, and then he shot Michael a look, forming an “o” with his mouth and blowing out a long breath.
But turning my eyes on Michael, I saw his jaw flex and his fists clench. Who knew what he was thinking, but he looked mad. As usual.
I rolled my eyes at them.
I guess it felt kind of good. In fact, I hadn’t thought about my scar one time since I’d come out with them tonight. I never felt sexy, but what I liked even more was that it didn’t take much to get their attention. No mini-skirt, barely any make-up, and no games. I just took off my sweatshirt, and suddenly I wasn’t a little girl anymore.
Of course, that fact wasn’t difficult to forget when the tank didn’t leave much to the imagination with the low-cut neckline. And given the temperature outside, I didn’t even want to know what they could make out through the fabric.
Forcing a huge-ass smile to psych myself up, I grabbed Will’s flask out of his hands and spun around for the door.
“Hey!” I heard him bark behind me.
But I was inside before he could protest further, the door closing and leaving them outside.
The warmth of the pool hall, smelling of wood and hamburgers, greeted me as soon as I walked in, and despite the warmer air, the change in temperature made my sensitive skin tingle. I felt my nipples grow harder, and my hands shook.
Maybe it was just nerves.
Scanning the area and trying to appear like I had no idea the person I was looking for was right at the bar, I tried to act casual. Several people looked up from their pool tables and small groups to see who had just entered. Some smiled and others jerked their chins in hello, before turning back to their conversations.
Corrupt by Depeche Mode played over the speakers, and I flipped my hair to the side, tipping up the flask and taking a small swig, trying not to wince at the burn coating my throat. I caught Miles’ head turned toward me from the corner of my eye.
Holding the flask in one hand and sticking my other hand into the back pocket of my jeans, I walked down the aisle between the bar and the pool tables, forcing myself to smile and my hips to sway. I tried to look flirty, even though my heart was stretching my throat and sweat cooled the back of my neck.
Turning my head, I pretended to be interested in something happening at one of the tables and not watching where I was going.
And then I crashed into his arm, spinning my head back around and feeling the vodka from Will’s flask splash my arm and seeing the blotches on Miles’ shirt.
“Oh, my God!” I gasped, making a big show of wiping him off. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“It’s okay,” he cut in, running a hand down his shirt and then over his blond hair, fixing himself. “What are you drinking there, Pretty Girl?”
He took the opportunity and grabbed my waist with one hand, stealing my flask with the other and taking a drink.
His eyebrows shot up, probably surprised to actually find alcohol and not Kool-Aid in there. The perk about being the quiet girl was not many people really got to know you, which left you the advantage of surprise if you ever decided to switch gears in situations just like this.
I pinched my eyebrows together, trying to look worried and vulnerable.
“Please don’t tell anybody,” I pleaded. “Trevor and I got in an argument, and I just needed to relax.”
Not that he’d tell anyone I was drinking. Everyone drank, but I wanted him to see me as easy prey. Miles and Astrid were aware I knew about the episode on St. Patrick’s Day, even though I couldn’t remember it, but I was hoping he would buy the fact that I was too drunk to care right now.
His lips quirked, and he handed me back the flask. “What did you fight about?”
I dropped my head back, like the alcohol was getting to me as I moaned. “He thinks I belong to him, and I disagree,” I played, bringing my eyes back to him and giving him a “fuck me” look.
I saw the heat grow in his eyes and felt his hands hold my hips possessively.
“Holdin’ out for someone else?” he whispered, getting closer to my mouth.
I licked my lips and hung a lazy arm over his shoulder, my hand dangling behind him. “Maybe,” I taunted, forcing myself to sway in his arms.
“Can’t really blame him, Rika,” he spoke low, yanking my body into his. “I mean, look at you.”