A Piece of Heaven (Allendale Four 1)

Anderson Thompson.

“She’s not worth it anyway,” he muttered, pushing past Anderson. His words hit me like a slap and I watched dumbly as Anderson shoved him down the hall.

“Touch her again and I’ll break your fucking hands.”

Spencer flipped him off and vanished into the party.

The panic attack which had been rising since Spencer cornered me consumed me like a wave. Tears sprang to my eyes. Stupid. Fucking. Anxiety-driven tears. I wiped them with my sleeve and glanced away, unable to face Anderson, who had just done something incredibly brave and charming and made me feel mushy inside, but then I remembered something. He called me a whore. He’d been a dick all night. How dare he play the knight in shining armor?

“I didn’t really need your help, Thompson.” Which maybe would have been a convincing statement if I had not slurred my words in the process.

He snorted. “Of course not. I can’t image you would ever get in a situation you couldn’t get out of.”

“Shut up.”

“No,” he replied quietly. “I won’t.”

I quirked an eyebrow, or I tried to, anyway. My face was suddenly feeling numb. I hated him for being so right and so wrong at the same time. “You think you know me,” I said, “but you don’t.”

We stared at one another. Dangerous words hung on the tip of my loosened tongue, daring to spill out. I wanted to ask him why he was angry with me all the time. Why he couldn’t just accept me like the others. Why so hot and cold?

Before I could speak he said, “I think you’re better than all this.”

“You think I’m a whore. You think I’m trash.”

“No.” He shook his head and stepped away from his side of the hallway, closer to where I stood. “I don’t.”

“You don’t think I’m good enough for your friends, especially Jackson. You think I’m cheap and slutty and dress like a hooker.” I couldn’t stop. The verbal filter I’d tried so hard to keep on had loosened with eight shots of vodka-infused Jell-O.

“You have no idea what I think.” His words were quiet. Daring. And because I was drunk, I was willing to push this a little more.

“You never tell me,” I challenged, strong and forceful, but a wave of nausea passed over me and I tried to steady myself against the wall.

Anderson moved his arms to stabilize me because my legs were no longer working. “You okay?”

“I’m tired.”

He laughed. “I know. I think it’s time to go home.” He was using his body to keep me upright, pressing me against the wall. It felt really good to be so close to him.

I reached out and brushed my fingers through his hair. Jesus, I’ve wanted to do that forever. I pushed the long strands to the side and caught a glimpse of his apple-green eyes. My hand moved on its own, touching the scratchy stubble of his cheek. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Reeves.”

“Yes, you do.”

We stared at one another for a long moment.

“Come on, let’s go find Jackson.” He moved his arm around my waist. I sunk into him for support and pressed my cheek in his chest. His T-shirt was so soft. I wanted to crawl into it and just sleep.

“I drank too much.”

“I think you did.”

“You smell good.”

His chest vibrated with laughter. “Thanks.”

Anderson dragged me down the hallway. I could hear Jackson’s booming laugh in the kitchen, followed by Oliver’s. I saw Jennifer whispering to Spencer and Spencer watching us. Amber and Benjamin were making out on a chair in the living room, oblivious to everything around them. Eric ran by with a towel on his back pinned like a cape and the music was so, so loud. Everything was loud and fuzzy and…