Page 43 of No, You Hang Up

My chest tightens when Eric suddenly reaches out to me, his hand grazing my thigh. His touch is clammy, even through my tights, and he draws me toward him gently. Cautiously.

Hesitantly.

God, I hate how timid he is. It reminds me of how eager Hux is by comparison. But I don’t stop him from pulling me against him and slowly, kindly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

He smells like beer.

His mouth fucking tastes like beer when he kisses me, though it’s more like a bump of his mouth against mine. He breathes against my lips, then nudges my mouth again, and I find it hard not to push him away and call off this whole thing.

Eric is not the person I want to be here right now. I can’t bring myself to do anything except let him kiss me. I can’t do anything except press my hands to the wall behind me like I’m allergic to the touch of his skin. But still, some part of me hopes Huxley is watching.

I want him to be jealous.

Fuck, I just want to see his face when someone else is kissing me. That is the motivation I need to finally push into him and pretend he’s someone else. I let myself relax, and my hand even comes up to rest on Eric’s shoulder. There’s nothing wrong with him, I remind myself.

Nothing at all.

I sigh against his lips and try not to taste the beer on his breath. His hands are clammy as they slide up my sides from my waist, and when I squirm, it’s not from delight or anticipation. It’s from poorly hidden dislike.

He’s not Huxley.

God, I have to stop thinking that. Even though I know Huxley is somewhere nearby—hehasto be—and I don’t understand what he’s doing by letting this go on.

Eric’s hands move further up my sides, now firmly on skin, and he’s pushing my shirt up over my ribs until the edges of his fingers can brush the undersides of my breasts.

He tastes like beer.

He’s not Huxley.

He’s panting like he’s running a marathon instead of just kissing, and I swear I can feel his knees shaking like this is his first kiss.

He’s not?—

When Eric jerks away from me, I immediately wonder if I’ve said those words out loud. But when I glance up, confusion plain on my face, it’s to see a hand fisted in the collar of Eric’s t-shirt and his blue eyes wide with shock.

“Hi.” Huxley’s voice is anything but friendly as he tows Eric close to him. His smile turns feral, until it’s more of a threat.

And suddenly, I have to lean against the wall on unsteady legs. Fear and anticipation surge through me, leaving me breathless, but the excitement in my throat nearly chokes me. The way he’s holding Eric seems dangerous, and all I can do is watch.

“Who are you?!” Eric writhes in his grip like a deer caught in a trap, his wide eyes darting around, looking for an escape. “What the hell, man?—”

“You were doing such a poor job of kissing her that I couldn’t stop myself.” His voice is cold and unfriendly. He’s everything I know him to be in this moment. He’s not wearing even a hint of the veneer of sweetness I’ve seen before or heard on the phone.

This is Huxley at his worst.

Suddenly, I realize what he’s going to do, and the anticipation drains from me, quickly being replaced with cold, unrelenting panic.

“N-no!” My gasp causes Hux to give me a lazy, bored look, though a small smile twitches on his lips at my outburst. “Hux?—”

“I thought it would take you a little longer to figure out my game,” he admits in his slow, lazy drawl. “But you know what I’m planning to do, don’t you, little bunny?”

I do, but I won’t say it out loud. Though part of it is for Eric’s benefit. I glance at the blond, who’s looking more drunk and confused than anything, and I fight the haze of liquor in my brain to focus on the situation at hand.

“Huxley don’t,” I murmur. “Just let go of him. You’ve made your point, okay?”

Eric grumbles, fixated on my words instead of the warning in my tone. “Is this your boyfriend?!” He snaps, disdain on his face. “Seriously? Why would you fuck with me—” At a twist of Hux’s grip, his words are cutoff by a squealing yelp that reminds me of a pig about to be slaughtered.

Huxley just grins at me, sparing no attention whatsoever for the man in his grip.

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