Page 95 of Habits

Together we push through the crowd of people and make our way to the living room and bar. This time there is another guy managing it, not the cute rookie who flirted with me a few weeks back, but Brook shushes him away and starts making our pinktails. I don’t know what she puts in them. Probably cranberry or raspberry mixed with vodka, or is it gin? I’m sure there is a trace of rum, but it could be something else. What I do know for sure is that they’re yummy. And that’s the only thing that matters.

Last time we had them was for Lia’s birthday, and we might have gotten a little buzzed. Especially Lia since she’s not used to drinking, but that night she wanted to forget Derek, so we had to help her. Chicks before dicks and all that. I guess tonight is a good night to have them.

Brook produces fancy cocktail glasses from somewhere underneath the bar, adds some ice cubes into each and pours the liquid from the shaker into them. She gives me my glass and we clink them together before taking a sip.

I let the cool liquid slide down my throat and close my eyes to savor the sweetness of it.

“This is so good.”

“It would have been even better if we had some sugar to dip the edge of the glass in, but…”

“The drink is already getting to you, Brook.” We both laugh at that, but she stops abruptly.

“What?”

Her eyes dart over my shoulder before they return back to my face. “You might not wanna …”

I look over my shoulder.

“… look over your shoulder.”

And I wish I haven’t.

Andrew is standing there flirting with none other than Diamond-fucking-Morgan. Her blond hair is curled and falling down her back. Her lips, painted red, smile at him as she laughs at what exactly I’m not sure since the guy doesn’t have a funny bone in his body. Her short, red velvet dress, the same color as her lips, is molded to her body.

I swallow hard, my hand gripping the back of the chair so hard my knuckles turn white. Relaxing my fingers, I loosen my grip and turn back around.

Brook pushes the now-full glass of pink liquid my way. This time I don’t take a moment to savor the drink before I gulp all of it down.

Her eyes look at me with sympathy, but I ignore it. “I think we’ll need something stronger than that.”

For a second she’s reluctant, but then that second is gone and she disappears underneath the bar. When she pops out again, she’s holding a bottle of Jack Daniels victoriously in her hands.

“That’ll do.”

I grab it from her, unscrew the lid and bring the bottle to my lips.

Andrew

“You better come and take your sister off my bar,” I hiss in Max’s ear, barely holding it together. “I think people have seen enough of her lacy panties to last them years.”

Max turns around immediately, gray eyes turning into slits.

He’s been playing poker with some guys from the team, puck bunnies around them. Not that the guy would notice it. He’s as celibate as the pope. Apart from his puppy obsession with Lia and his hate-hate relationship with Brook, I haven’t seen him look at a girl for more than two seconds.

“What did you do?” he spats, but doesn’t wait for my answer before he gets up and strides toward the living room and Jeanette.

When I saw her up on that bar, dancing and laughing, throwing her head back and revealing all the gorgeous skin that the guys around her were drinking in hungrily, I wanted to jump up there and throw her over my shoulder and run. Run far away so nobody could look at her.

Because she’s mine.

Mine to watch.

Mine to touch.

Mine to have.

Only she isn’t.

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