Page 66 of Give You Up

Damn him. And Syn? I’ll forgive Syn this time. It’s an act. A show. Fuck, how many times will I tell myself that? The thing is, it’s not an act. I’m not clueless.

Syn has history with those dirtbags. What kind of history? Is Mohawk an ex-boyfriend? Is he the guy who had Syn not liking sex? From the flush on her skin and the lingering smile on her face when the dude moves out of the way, giving me an unobstructed view of Syn, she definitely liked whatever history they had and can have again.

The dude glances over his shoulder. He regrets not taking her with him. I smirk. Sorry, buddy. Syn ismygirl.

She stays at the table when she should be making her way to me. Then it hits me. Those bastards left her with the tab. When I get ahold of those good-for-nothing mother-effers . . . Mentally shaking off my anger, I wave a server over and nod at Syn sitting primly with her hands clasped on top of the table.

“I’d like to pay her tab.”

“Should I tell her who made the payment?”

“No need.”

“Will do.”

The server doesn’t head over to Syn’s table right away, and that is fine by me. Drink in one hand, I lean back against the bar and study Syn, ignoring the woman sitting next to me, shooting furtive glances and smiles my way.

Syn is wearing down her bottom lip with her teeth and rubbing at the rings. Her gaze is downcast. An ache starts in my chest, threatening to overtake me. I get my girl. Understand what she is going through. I’ve seen this side of her many times in the past. Uncertainty. She wants to bare her soul but is afraid of being judged.

What did those douchebags say to her? What shitty thing happened to her in the past that made her associate with the likes of those two?

Done with staying away from her, I settle my tab and saunter over to her table. Girls reach for me. Ask for my number. Some are more forward, sidling up to me and rubbing their tits on my arm as I pass by them. I ignore them and barge past another group of women. They vie for my attention, and I politely decline their advances, knowing their type well.

They are looking to take a guy home. For him to fuck her senseless. They’ve probably made a bet to see which one catches my eye, who I’ll bang into oblivion first.

Had I not run into Syn at Bayside, I would take them up on their offer and sleep through the group of friends. Tap each one once, then rope them into a threesome or a foursome.

Now? Now, there is only one girl for me. I won’t be like my dad. I aim to keep my dick in my pants. Unless my girl wants to play with it. Wants to stroke my B-man. Take him in her mouth. Do dirty things to him. Stroke my cock from head to base with her luscious mouth, the metal adorning her bottom lip cool on my flesh.

The server is at the table when I reach for Syn’s hand. Giving me a grateful smile, the server having told her the tab’s been taken care of, I lead Syn onto the dance floor.

I don’t give a flying fuck that the song is a fast beat. I pull her into my arms and clasp her head to my shoulder.

The women who propositioned me with their fuck-me bedroom eyes and lingering caresses stare at Syn with disbelief on their faces that I chose her over them. I get it. Got the same look from the guys all the time when Syn and I dated in high school.

Those jealous bastards didn’t think I was worth Syn’s time. That we were too different. She was the nice, quiet one. I’m the loudmouth with the temper. Lucky for me, I had the talent to cream the non-believers on and off the field with my talent for throwing the ball and throwing punches.

The women staring at us are wondering what her appeal is for me, with her tats and face piercings. Can’t they see Syn is beautiful inside and out? I pull her closer to me. They can go to hell for all I care.

A sigh of contentment slips from her lips, the sound rising above the music, and I am in heaven.

Her in my arms feels right.

“Syn. Babe.”

She glances up at me. The uncertainty on her face is as clear as newly washed glass.

“It was all pretend. Please believe me.”

“I do, Pixie Dust.”

“Thank you.”

“For what, baby?”

“For this.” She clings to me. “I needed your arms wrapped around me in a bad way, Taron.”

Her mouth finds my flesh, just above the collar of my buttoned-up shirt. Hot need pulses through me, amped up by her body pressed into mine and the thumping beat.

---