Page 69 of Habits

Max doesn’t even bother to turn around. Leaning against the bar, he’s swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

My whole body goes still, jaw set tight.

A date? She’s here on a fucking date after specifically prohibiting me from fucking around while I fuck her?

My fingers shake with rage, and I’m not sure if I want to shove my fist into Max’s face or take the half-empty glass in front of me and throw it at the nearest wall.

“He’s the son of our family friends …”

He keeps talking about the dude Jeanette took to this fancy event, but I tune him out. His words, although unclear, bring images of the guy into my head.

Family friend’s son, I guess they must be good friends if he approves. The dude is probably everything I’m not. Refined andwhole. Not an asshole like me who carries a chip on his shoulder everywhere he goes. Not some lunatic who gets a thrill out of kicking guys stronger than necessary around the ice. Not a guy who looks for oblivion in the sweet smoke and booze.

Somebody notdamaged.

Somebody notdestructive.

Somebody who’s notme.

I’m not sure when I wrapped my hand around the glass, but I’m squeezing it so tightly my knuckles turn white. I throw what’s left in the glass down my throat, letting it burn me from the inside out.

Maybe it can burn my demons along the way.

Take them to hell where they belong.

Too bad this is my life and there is no escaping it.

I chuckle bitterly. “Why are you telling me this? You made your point more than clear.”

You don’t have to throw it in my face. I get it, dude.

I’m not good enough.

“I just want you to …” His eyes dart somewhere over my shoulder, the gray irises darkening to the stormy color his sister wears like a cloak. Intense and gloomy. “What the hell?”

I turn around before he can finish his sentence, my whole body alert. My heart kicks up a notch as I’m looking for whatever he saw.

Whoeverhe saw.

Looking for her.

My eyes scan the mass of people, reds and blacks, long silky dresses and suits that could feed a small country for a year. Until they land on her.

I don’t know how I didn’t see her the first time around, but now I can’t take my eyes off her.

Jeanette is wearing a short dark red dress that touches her knees. The bottom part is tight, but there is some kind of wavy thing that covers her upper body. She turns around, swaying on her heels. And her back.

Exposed.

All that silky skin bared for everybody to see.

A hand slides up her naked flesh, fingers spreading against her backbone.

My whole body tightens in rage.

Seeing another guy’s hand on her feels wrong.

So fucking wrong.

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