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We have a full table, between our group and the couple of guys who try to include themselves, hoping to score. One of them is cute, with his dark hair and full mouth, but I’m not even remotely interested. I think he said his name was Paul. When he bends his head to ask me if I want to dance, coming too close to my ear, I smile, point to my ear to pretend not be able to hear him. I could tell him to fuck off, but at first I generally try for a soft rejection if I can. When guys won’t take the hint, I change tactics.
He comes even closer and yells, “Wanna dance!” His eyes peer down the top of my dress.
Seriously, dude? I don’t even have that much cleavage. I’d totally understand if a guy couldn’t help looking down Gabriella’s shirt, but mine?
“No, thanks!”
I want to dance, just not with him.
To cut the conversation short, I pull out my phone, realizing too late that I’m not supposed to touch the device.
Now it’s burning in my hand, begging me to check out my messages.
Dammit.
I open the app, bringing my cosmo to my lips.
Ignoring me? Oh, Nadia, you know that never ends well.
Then right after, Jason sent,Come to my club. You’re owed a fair few consequences.
He attached a dark picture. Opening it, I see a barcode in white, followed by a logo that read ME in an elaborate script.
“Holy fuck!” Paul, or whatever his name in, yells in my hear. “Is that real?”
He’s staring at my phone, and I decide I need to sit somewhere else.
“Excuse me.”
He doesn’t seem inclined to. “You have a Midnight Elite invite? What are we doing here, then?”
I have no clue what he’s talking about.
“I need to go to the restroom. Have a nice evening.”
I catch Gabriella’s eye. She’s a cute preppy girl with long lashes over pale gray eyes and dark blonde hair. People generally underestimate everything about her.
More fool they.
I start to move away, and Paul-the-Idiot grabs my wrist, holding me in place.
Gabriella moves faster than anyone else. She snatches her empty cocktail glass and slams it against his face. Luckily for the asshole, the glass doesn’t break, but he screams all the same, falling back down on the bench.
My group gets up, those who hadn’t noticed the situation all rising to hide Paul from any bouncer who might have been looking our way.
“What the fuck?” Paul’s friend, who’d been making out with Evie, says, wide-eyed.
Evie snarls at him. “You and your asshole friend can go. You don’t mess with my girls.”
She doesn’t even know what happened, but the bottom line is, it doesn’t matter.
Paul looks like he wants to charge at Gabriella.
Spence is pretty chill, but at six foot one, when he puffs his chest up and glares, most guys take notice and back off. He places himself in front of Gabriella, protective.
I missed this. I wish I had all of them with me at Cross.
Come to think of it, I think I dealt with the bullshit this year because I knew whatever happened in the school didn’t matter. Here in the real world, I have people who have my back.
