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I let go of Oliver’s hand to turn my music up. Again. I was definitely hammered at this point, but I didn’t especially want them to know. My overprotective men.
More importantly, why did I not splurge for better seats? Why had I agreed to this stupid reunion? And why was I wedged between two burly men?
Anytime I moved, their arms brushed against mine. My skin tingled at the contact, and I tried to jerk away from one, only to push into the other. I couldn’t win.
I swiveled my head shooting them both aggressive glares and they laughed at me. Rude.
I narrowed my eyes in an over dramatic way, I could still hear their laughter, even through my headphones.
As if on cue, my bladder decided that it was time for me to make my exit from these annoying men. I began detangling myself from them, before heading to the plane bathroom.
Why anyone would fuck in a plane bathroom made no sense to me. They were tiny and smelled like chemicals. And why were there so many seats shoved together? And why was my skin so sweltering hot and these rows so tiny to wedge my ass through? Someone was going to turn and -BAM- face full of sweaty ass. Gross.
Intrusive thoughts continued to infiltrate my muddled mind as I did my business. Five shots deep and I was most certainly drink. Drunk?
I didn’t want to outwardly portray it, but in reality, I bit off more than I could chew. I’d told Yara I was ready; I was no longer so sure. Plus, the height wasn’t helping. Being up high had frayed my nerves ever since my senior year of high school.
I shut that line of thought down and added it to the list I would talk to my future therapist about.
Stepping out of the airplane bathroom, I stumbled right into a wall.
“Wall, move please.” The words slurred a bit as they left my lips.
The Wall moved, what a good receptive Wall.
It steadied me, and with blurry eyes, I tried to focus on it. “Bella, are you alright?” the Wall spoke, the voice was a deep baritone that sent an unwanted shiver down my spine.
I tried to steady my gaze on the Wall, but my face was pressed directly into it.
I felt pressure on my shoulders as Maddox stepped in behind me to pull me from the Wall. Maddox’s firm grasp was unmistakable as he dragged me away, and I never got the chance to even properly see my Wall.
“Always catching attention. I swear,” Maddox grumbled as he placed me back firmly into my seat. He reached across, buckling me in before resettling next to me.
Drunk Izzy enjoyed the manhandling. It wasn’t entirely fair. I spent most of my time enveloped in these two rousing men, unwanted by either. Where Oliver gave a very clear boy-next-door vibe, Maddox was the older rugged protector type that you craved to witness go full teddy bear mode. Maddox’s size was impressive and even when we were sitting it was difficult to meet his sharp gray eyes. Instead, I used my proximity to refamiliarize myself with his ink that spilled out across corded muscles and encompassed the entirety of both his arms.
Without meaning to, I absentmindedly traced one of the tattooed lines on his bicep closest to mine.
Maddox stiffened and Oliver, noticing the movement, reached over and yanked my hand off of him.
“I think you have reached your limit.” Oliver’s voice was calm, but I saw a fire flash through his typically cool eyes.
“Never any fun. I’m telling Yara on you.” I scrunched my nose in annoyance.
Oliver frowned at me before reaching up to rub his temples and muttering under his breath.
“Maddox, tell boss man he’s being too strict and controlling. He never lets me do anything,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest dramatically.
Oliver followed the movement and his lips flattened into a line. He almost looked constipated.
I turned to Maddox, his eyes crinkled in amusement, but even in my state, I could tell he was on edge. “Baby girl, you know he’s right. You over drank.”
Fuck, if Maddox was agreeing I knew I was in trouble.
“Fineeeeeee.” The word came out dramatically long. Oliver was a control freak, but I secretly loved that about him. Being told what to do by a sexy man? Yes, please.
Maddox, well, he didn’t speak too much. In fact, sometimes it seemed like Oliver and I were the only ones he graced his words with at all. Which meant when he said something, I listened, within reason.
Oliver poked my cheek. “I still can only guess what goes through that mind of yours.”
