“Yes,” he insists, taking my hand and pulling me off the dance floor.
“Umm…” I begin, but my fuzzy brain works too slowly and I can’t think clearly. “My…my clutch is over there.” I turn to find where everyone is sitting, but the room spins slightly, and I stumble on my own two feet. I squint my eyes to find the table, but everything is kind of blurry. The guy ignores me, pulling me along, not even slowing down when I stumble once again.
“I…I need to find my friends,” I slur, trying to pull on his hand to stop him—with no success. His grip is too tight. I have no clue where we’re going or where we even are, but suddenly my body flies backward and hits a hard…wall? No, that can’t be right. From the force of being pulled back, my hand is yanked out of the guy’s. When he notices, he looks back and his eyes go wide. I tilt my head to the side to see what’s going on, and that’s when I see him. Jase.
“What the fuck, dude,” the guy hisses.
“She won’t be going anywhere with you,” Jase growls, and without even waiting for the guy to respond, he grabs my hand and pulls me in the opposite direction. I stumble slightly, but unlike the other guy, Jase notices, and instead of ignoring it, he stops walking and turns around, then lifts me into his arms, bridal style. If I were sober, I would yell at him to put me down. He’s the last guy I want to carry me. The last person I want to touch me. But I’m drunk, and his warm body feels good, even comforting. So, I just go with it, wrapping my arms around his neck. The room is now spinning, so I close my eyes and nuzzle my face into his chest. Taking a deep breath, I inhale his scent. He still smells the same as he did all those years ago. All man and comfort and warmth. I should be pushing myself away from him instead of snuggling closer. Being this close to him is not going to bode well for my emotional or mental health once I’m sober. But drunk me doesn’t seem to care. So, instead of freaking out, I release a long sigh and allow the vibration of his body to lull me to sleep.
Eight
Jase
As I carry Celeste through the club, toward the VIP section, so I can get her shit and take her home, anger is emanating through my veins at the fucking asshole who thought he would take advantage of a drunk girl, at Celeste for putting herself in that situation in the first place, at her friends for not keeping a closer eye on her, and most of all, at me. Because there’s no doubt in my mind that she’s drunk because of the lies I spoke to my brother. Because even after all these years, I’m still butt hurt over her walking away without even so much as a fucking goodbye, like what we shared, what she gave me, didn’t mean shit to her. When the truth is, it meant everyfuckingthing to me.
The second her friends spot her in my arms, they jump up to come to the rescue—too late, I might add. Nick and Olivia start spitting out questions, and Celeste’s model friend—I can’t remember her name even though we were introduced earlier—Benz, Cadillac, or some shit like that—reaches for Celeste, as if she’s going to carry her herself. With her still in my arms, I shake my head, not bothering to speak. It’s too loud for anyone to hear me, and right now, I know if I do talk, shit will come out that I might regret later. I have one goal right now: to get whatever she came with and find out where she lives. My eyes lock with Nick’s and he frowns. I’m not sure if it’s at me, Celeste, the situation, or at himself, but right now it doesn’t even matter.
“Is she okay?” Olivia asks. All I can do is shake my head. “She only had a few shots over here. I saw her dancing with that guy, but I don’t think she had any more to drink.”
“We can get her home,” Nick offers. I shake my head again, still unable to speak without freaking the fuck out.
“Okay,” Olivia says, “let me get her purse.” She scurries around the table while everyone stays standing in place, unsure of what to do or say.
“She can come home with me,” Mercedes—that’s her name!—offers, and her husband nods in agreement. I simply shake my head again.
Olivia places her tiny purse on Celeste since my hands are currently full, then says, “I’ll have Nick text you her address.” She moves a few damp strands of hair from Celeste’s face, but she doesn’t even stir. She’s out. “Can you please let us know when she’s home safe? Maybe I should go too and stay with her.” Olivia’s eyes fill with tears. “I knew she was drinking, but I didn’t know…”