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“Want me to grab it?” he yells back.
I shake my head, “No, you stay and dance. I’m going to go rest my feet. They’re killing me.”
I leave him on the dance floor grinding against Chris while he has Bailey pulled in front of him. She looks embarrassed, but determined to join in the fun. I laugh at the three of them.
There’s not much room at the bar, but I manage to wiggle my way in between two guys. Being so small is a benefit sometimes. I order a Jack and Coke and wait for the bartender to get my drink.
I feel a presence at my back before a deep voice says, “Hey, sugar, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”
I turn on my stool and regard the guy standing too close for comfort. He’s not bad looking, if you like the stuck-up type. He’s wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Every piece of his blond hair is held perfectly in place with gel. So not my type. I like my men rugged.
“No, thanks. I’ve already got my drink.” I go to turn back around and he grabs my arm.
“Ah, come on, baby. Will you at least dance with me?”
I look down at the hand that’s holding my arm. With his slightly intoxicated state, I’m able to maneuver my arm out of his grip and twist his so it’s at an awkward angle before he realizes what happened. It’s a move Jaxon showed me when I was younger.
The guy lets out a howl of pain and bends at the waist, trying to relieve the pressure on his wrist. I don’t let up when I get in his face. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want you to buy me a drink. I don’t want to dance with you. What I do want is for you to leave me alone. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes.” The guy narrows his eyes at me and speaks through gritted teeth. I can’t tell if it’s from pain or anger. Doesn’t matter.
I release him and he immediately grabs it and starts rubbing it. After glaring at me for a couple minutes, he turns around andwalks off, but not before I hear him mutter, “Didn’t want to dance with the dirty bitch anyway.”
I turn back in my seat and see my drink sitting in front of me. I pick it up and take a big swallow.
“Nice move,” I hear beside me. I look over, ready to get rid of another jackass. The guy sitting beside me looks harmless enough, if a little young. He has short light brown hair and a tanned complexion. He’s not looking at me, instead he has his eyes trained on the TV sitting behind the bar.
I turn back to my drink and am taking another sip when he talks again.
“You know it’s not safe to turn your back on your drink in a place like this, right?”
I quickly look back at him and see an innocent expression on his face. I narrow my eyes at him. Is he trying to tell me something? He turns his eyes my way and I see no malicious intent on his face, just genuine concern.
“It’s okay. I watched it for you, but you need to be careful. There’s no telling what someone could slip in your drink.” After he’s done, he turns his attention back to the TV.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
Okay, that was weird.
I turn back around and look in my drink. After thinking about it for a few minutes, I deem it safe. Obviously, the guy was just trying to warn me to be careful. I didn’t get any creepy vibes from him. I decide to sit at the bar to finish my drink and watch the football game that’s playing. I’ll go find the others in a bit. The guy beside me doesn’t say anything else.
When I get up from my stool a few minutes later, I lose my footing and sway to the side. I shouldn’t have drunk that last drink. I was already feeling the effects of the shots Andrew brought us earlier.
I feel hands grab my arms to steady me. I look up and see the guy who was sitting beside me.
“Easy there, let’s take a seat for a minute. Looks like you had too much to drink,” he says, in a calm voice.
I let him place me back on the stool, grateful for the help. I slump down. My head’s a fuzzy mess. I really shouldn’t have had that drink. My eyes are heavy and all I want to do is sleep.
The guy beside me asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yesss,” I slur.Fuck!Why am I so dizzy?
“Do you have friends with you?” he asks me, seemingly concerned.
I try to lift my arm to point to the dance floor, but it just falls limply at my side. I manage to get out, “Dance floor”. I try to shake my head to clear it, but it only makes me teeter to the side.
“Come on, let’s go find your friends,” he says, and gets up from his stool. He puts his arm around me. He has to hold me up, or I would slump to the floor. We start walking down the line of the bar.
