Page 162 of Call the Shots
“Huh?”
“I knew Paisley was your girlfriend. I hit her up to be an asshole. I’m sorry.”
We awkwardly looked away, I didn’t expect him to apologize. I was pretty sure he wasn’t expecting to apologize either. Shit, I didn’t know what to say.
“Boys are so dumb,” June giggled. “Say you love each other and keep going.”
I cleared my throat. “Thanks, Nick.”
Nick downed another drink. “Yep.”
The whole evening was like that. We were coming to the realization that this was our goodbye. Montoya hugged June for so long, I had to wait to dance with her.
“I thought you’d never ask, Forty,” she teased.
There wasn’t really a dance floor on the rooftop, just a place closest to the speakers, but it didn’t bother June. It didn’t bother me either but maybe that was the Tequila.
“I love when you call me Forty,” I confessed. “I pretend like it pisses me off.”
“You know I can’t hear anything you say, right?” she teased loudly over the music.
“I’m in love with you.”
“You’re still mumbling!”
“Dance with me!” I shouted. “Keep dancing with me!”
Blood pounded in my ears with the music to keep up with June. She led the way, and I was so happy to follow, engrossed in her. I couldn’t stop touching her. The small of her back, her hips, anywhere my hands could conveniently fall, I smoothed down the dress to melt against her skin. I needed to memorize every dip, every curve.
“I don’t want to go!” burst out of me.
The music quieted a little into the next track and I could clearly hear June’s soft reply. “I don’t want you to go either.”
Pickles reached between us, offering a nervous smile. “Could I cut in?—?”
“What thehell?” I grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him away from her. “How the fuck did you think this would go, Pickles?”
“Hey, hey, hey,” June interjected, pulling my hand off him and resting it on her waist again.
I watched Pickles’s sweaty face return to a group of howling Gladiators at the bar. Those dipshits paid him to do it. Before I could stalk over, June wrapped her arms around my neck, forcing my attention on her.
“Look at me,” she said over the music. “We’re having fun.”
I gazed down and started swaying to the music again, the angry, drunk thoughts replaced with pleased, drunk ones, like happy bees buzzing in my head. I pulled her closer. “Uh-huh.”
“Don’t worry about them. They’re being stupid.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t need to punch somebody because you’re dancing with me.”
I hung my head over her, smiling. “Uh-huh.”
If anybody asked me who walked over, I couldn’t tell them. I was full of booze and good music and dancing with the one girl who made my pulse race, not much could fuck with that. The next song had a bass that vibrated the floor, and I tugged June around until her back met my chest to dance with her. Or grind against her. Either way, I could feel her breathing become unsteady.
The curve of her ass was doing things to me. My cock bulged against the zipper, such a great fucking feeling.
I languished in that, wrapping my hand around her throat?—
