Page 23 of Trustfall

“Hey, Luke? It’s Allie.”

Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Why is Allie calling me from Emory’s phone? Where is she? Did something happen?

Reign it in, dude. Stop being a fucking psycho.

“Hey, Allie. Everything okay?” I ask in my best attempt at a normal voice.

“Not really. Em and I were bar hopping, and she’s been…over-served. She needs to go home, but she won’t budge, and now she’s attached herself to some wannabe frat guy group. I’m worried about her. She doesn’t usually do this. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. Nate would have made a huge deal about it, and Em would never forgive me if I called him.”

My hackles rise when Allie apologizes to me. From what I've gathered, she never apologizes, especially not to guys. She sounds really worried, which only makes me more anxious. Emory's drunk, hanging out with a bunch of guys she's never met. What if they spike her drink? No, Allie wouldn't let that happen. But Emory's being stubborn. My panic suddenly turns into blind rage. I swear to fuck if one of those guys touches her…

“I’m on my way. Where are you?” I ask Allie as I grab my jacket and step into my boots.

“I’ll text you the address. It’s like twenty minutes away. Thanks, Luke.”

I makeit there in twelve minutes, and by some miracle, manage to not get pulled over for speeding…or that one red light I ran. This isn’t me. I’m not a reckless driver. Even when I’m riding my bike, I’m practically a boy scout. But I can’t get the thought of Emory out of my head. Sitting on some random guy’s lap while he plans how to get her alone or take her back to his place…

Fuck that.

I pull into the parking lot and storm into the bar. It’s only a little after eleven, so it’s still pretty crowded. It looks more like a club than a bar, with people grinding on the dance floor and lights flashing from the ceiling. I see Allie standing off to the side next to a table of rowdy guys. She’s tense, but her shoulders relax when she sees me.

“Oh, thank God. I’ve tried everything. Threats. Bribery. I even said we could stop to get chicken nuggets on the way home.”

“I’m glad you called me. Where is?—”

Just then, a completely drunk Emory stumbles out from among the group of guys. She sees me and rushes over. "Luuuuuuuke. You're here.” She throws herself at me, nearly climbing up my body. My arms instinctively go out to catch her, but she suddenly lets go, and her face falls with confusion.

“Wait, whyareyou here? Did you follow me? Because I may be into the whole stalker thing. But don’t tell anyone.” She tries to wink but ends up closing both eyes.

I chuckle to myself. I’ll be her stalker… but no. That’s not what I’m here for. “I won’t if you don’t tell anyone I stalked you,” I whisper so only she can hear. “Now let’s get you home, Little Wells.”

“Hey, Emory. Get back over here,” one of the guys yells. He’s wearing sweats and a backwards hat, like he’s too good to even bother. He lifts his lips in a half smirk and I contemplate punching it off his smug face.

“Coming!” Emory singsongs.

What. The. Fuck.

“Duty calls,” she slurs as she takes a step to head back to the guys.

Nope. Not happening.

I move my hand down her arm and thread my fingers with hers. It doesn’t take much to pull her back toward me.

“What are you?—”

“It’s time to go, Emory.”

She narrows her eyes. “If you want me to leave, you’re gonna have to carry me out of here.”

Then she starts giggling like this is all some kind of joke.

“That can be arranged.”

“Whatever,” she scoffs and attempts to head back to the table of guys again. “You’re all talk, Collins.”

Not so fast, Little Wells.

I look at Allie, my gaze conveying a request for her permission. I need to get Emory out of here, but Allie brought me into this situation, and I don’t want to feel like I’m overstepping. She nods, prompting me to spring into action.

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