Noah’s eyes bug out of his head as Rivers shrugs his shoulders, not giving a shit who tags along with him. “What? You’re not going to a party without me,” Noah all but roars.
I turn on my overprotective boyfriend. “You bet your sweet ass I am,” I tell him with a grin. “Do I need to remind you that I can handle myself?”
“Do I need to remind you that only a few weeks ago you were jumped by a bunch of bitches?”
“Not fair,” I argue. “I was blindsided. You know perfectly well that I can handle my own.”
He watches me for a long, drawn out second and I wonder if the pissed off vibe shooting from him is aimed at me or if it’s because he’s just missed his chance to race and has been dragged into dinner with his grandfather.
“Fine,” Noah breathes, “but don’t drink. I don’t like the idea of you vulnerable and drunk at a party with guys we don’t know.”
“Do we need to revisit the whole ‘I can handle myself’ thing?”
“Do we need to revisit the whole ‘you accepted a joint from Spencer and got high at the last party’ thing?” he shoots back at me, mimicking my tone.
Damn it, I hate it when he’s right, but I hate the cocky grin that spread across his face when he knows he’s won more. I roll my eyes, not wanting to get into this again. “Fine, you have yourself a deal. I won’t drink.”
He visibly relaxes before turning towards Rivers with a proud, irritatingly sexy smirk. “Watch her like a fucking hawk.”
Chapter 14
I walk into the party with Rivers at my back and his hand on my elbow. “Don’t fucking wander off,” he warns me, taking in the packed bodies and red Solo cups that are already littering every available surface of the house, telling me that this party is going to get wild.
I have a feeling if Noah knew that tiny little fact, he’d be right here, trying his hardest to drag me out kicking and screaming, but I’m all good because Rivers isn’t a rat. Well…sort of. He’ll let me have my fun as long as I don’t take things too far, but then he’ll tell Noah all about it afterward.
Rivers leans in behind me so he can speak in my ear without needing to scream. “Just be careful, alright. This is Monica’s party.”
I spin around as fast as lightning. “What? You never said anything about it being Monica’s party.”
“Didn’t think I needed to,” he says with a deep confusion pulling down his brows. “Shit like that doesn’t bother you.”
“I’m not saying that it bothers me,” I explain. “Just…a heads up would have been nice. You know, that way I know if I need to dodge any fists.”
“Please,” Rivers scoffs, seeing an opening through the bodies and forging forward, dragging me along. “I thought dodging fists got you hot.”
I grin up at the big guy before me. “It sure as hell does,” I admit.
As we make our way through the party, getting stopped by people desperate to say hi to Rivers, I can’t help but look around, though instead of looking around at what’s going on at the party, I’m looking around for the girls who thought they had the right to storm into my home and beat the ever loving shit out of me.
It’s only been a few weeks and even though the cuts and bruises have faded, the attack is still fresh. Even more so now that I have Aria at home with me. I mean, what if she had been there and saw that? What if she’d been hurt?
I can’t let bullshit like that happen ever again. Fuck, if dad knew what had gone down while he was gone…shit, I don’t even know how he would have reacted. I’m not going to pretend that I know what it’s like to be a parent, but I can assume finding out your home was invaded and your seventeen year old daughter got jumped while you were working doesn’t sit well.
My eyes trail through the bodies and I make myself a promise that if I see any of the cheer skanks who dared lay a hand on me, I will finish them. I don’t have Noah as my voice of reason holding me back and feel like some kind of wild animal who just slipped off her leash.
Tonight is mine. You know, considering Rivers doesn’t feel the need to stand in my way. Usually, he’s the one to fight first and ask questions later, but I can’t help but think of the conversation I had with him about this. He thinks it’s best to be a calculating bitch about it and get payback in a way they wouldn’t see coming, but I can’t help the overwhelming need to just… finish them. I want to see them hurt just like they did to me. I want to see them laying on the ground, unable to move or even call for help with tears streaming down their faces because that’s the kind of twisted bullshit they put me through.