I really hate Tori.
And right now, I’m so pathetically miserable, I even hate myself.
“Are you crying?” Warren asks.
“No.”
He nods. “Yes, you are. You’re crying.” I shake my head. “I am not.”
“You were about to,” he says, looking at me sympathetically. He puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. “Chin up, little girl. Maybe tonight we can find someone who will screw the thought of that jerkoff ex right out of that pretty little head of yours.”
I laugh and slap him in the chest.
“I would volunteer to do it, but Bridgette doesn’t like to share,” he says. “She’s kind of a bitch like that, if you haven’t noticed.”
I laugh again, but when my eyes meet Ridge’s in the rearview mirror, my smile fades. His jaw is firm, and his eyes lock with mine for a few seconds before he refocuses on the road in front of him.
He’s unreadable most of the time, but I could swear I saw a small flash of jealousy behind those eyes. And I don’t like how seeing him jealous that I’m leaning against Warren actually feels good.
Turning twenty-two has rotted my soul. Who am I, and why am I having these awful reactions?
We pull into the parking lot of a club. I’ve been here a few times with Tori, so I’m relieved that it won’t be completely unfamiliar. Warren takes my hand and helps me out of the car, then puts an arm around my shoulders and walks with me toward the entrance.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “I’ll keep my hands off you tonight so guys won’t assume you’re madly in love with me. I hate cock blockers, and I refuse to be one. But if anyone makes you uncomfortable, just look at me and give me a signal so I can swoop in and pull you out of the situation.”
I nod. “Sounds like a plan. What kind of signal do I give you?”
“I don’t know. You can lick your lips seductively. Maybe squeeze your breasts together.”
I elbow him in the side. “Or maybe I can just scratch my nose?”
He shrugs. “That works, too, I guess.” He opens the door, and we all make our way inside. The music is overwhelming, and the second the doors close behind us, Warren leans in to shout into my ear. “There are usually booths open on the balcony level. Let’s go there!” He tightens his grip on my hand, then turns to Ridge and Maggie and motions for them to follow.
? ? ?
I haven’t had to use the secret code Warren and I agreed on, and we’ve been here more than two hours now. I’ve danced with several people, but as soon as the song ends, I make it a point to smile politely and head back to the booth. Warren and Maggie seem to have made a nice dent in the liquor stock, but Ridge hasn’t had a drop. Other than a shot Warren persuaded me to take when we first arrived, I haven’t had anything to drink, either.
“My feet hurt,” I say.
Maggie and Ridge have danced a couple of times but that was to slow songs, so I made it a point not to watch them.
“No!” Warren says, attempting to pull me back up. “I want to dance!”
I shake my head. He’s drunk and loud, and every time I try to dance with him, he ends up butchering my feet almost as badly as he butchers the moves.
“I’ll dance with you,” Maggie says to him. She climbs over Ridge in the booth, and Warren takes her hand. They head down to the lower level to dance, and it’s the first time Ridge and I have been alone in the booth.
I don’t like it.
I like it.
I don’t.