Page 25 of Redeeming the Villain

Which is why I got dressed up tonight. I’m not the same shy girl I was back then. Well, I mean, I am, but now I’m more confident in my skin and in doing things that scare me.

So, if Malik wants to pull a stunt tonight, I know that at least I feel good about myself—something he can’t take from me.

Music begins pulsing from the house, thumping beneath my feet as I round the corner to the front entrance.

Squeezing between two big groups drinking on the twenty-foot-wide staircase, I use the railing to help me up the stairs to the first landing and then the second until I reach the front double doors, stopping every now and then to take a few deep breaths and breaks.

Blair wasn’t kidding … the Kensingtons can throw one hell of a party.

My nerves overload me, and I stop myself, sinking to the side of the doors without going through.

Oh God. This was such a bad idea. What am I doing here?

This issonot my scene. Way too much alcohol. Way too many people. One too many Maliks.

What the hell am I getting myself into?

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I contemplate if I’ve gone insane for doing this. For challenging Malik and showing up tonight. What if I just make everything worse?

“Alora?”

I recognize Blair’s kind voice behind me instantly.

Shit.

Slowly spinning on my heel, I lift my head a little taller and relax my shoulders just enough to sell the part.

But my confidence fades when I see she’s not alone. She has a wall of hockey players behind her, all staring right at me. Including Malik.

Stay calm.

Blair strides forward, pulling me into a light hug. “I’m so glad you came!”

Pulling away, I glance at the group, finding their eyes at different levels of my body, all but Malik’s, whose gaze is locked so aggressively on mine that I’m scared I won’t be able to move. He’s pissed—royally so.

His nostrils flare, his jaw is clenched, and his fists are squeezed tightly against his sides. He crosses his arms, his sharp glare trying to gouge my eyes out.

All because I’m here. My chest flutters at the satisfaction of pissing him off. It’s a nice change for once.

Asher whistles, walking toward me with a shiny white smile. “Alora, you look fucking hot.”

Malik clears his throat, deep and rough, like a growl.

But Asher doesn’t skip a beat. He hooks his arm over my shoulders and turns me toward the door, bringing me along with him without question.

I barely hear Malik say something behind me; the only words I catch are, “… fucking kidding me?”

Blair and a shorter guy with blond hair catch up to my other side.

Asher murmurs down into my ear, “How about a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay. I don’t drink.” I refuse his offer as nicely as I can. “Thank you though.”

He tilts his head back. “Come on, Aloraaaa. Live a little.”

It’s too much to explain that alcohol is hard on my body. As a diuretic, it can rapidly dehydrate me and exasperate my POTS symptoms. And if it’s chock-full of sugar, it’s even worse. But that answer feels drawn out, so I just say no.

“You can beg all you want, but my answer will still be no.” I flirt with him playfully.

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