Page 52 of Those That Don't Exist
I shoot back
Red’s Stalker: Yet. Red, please don't take any risks. Maybe you should go home?
Is he angry? That message sounds angry. It's like gasoline to the fire in my blood. Fuck him. I’m fine and I know what to look out for now, I can avoid hugging anyone.
No. Bree invited me out and Claire is talking to me again. I want to enjoy a night with my friends. You can’t be angry at me for enjoying myself. Goodnight.
I intend to put my phone away to go join my friends, but as I push off the bar and head to the stairs I can’t help but read his immediate reply.
Red’s Stalker: Red, I’m not angry. But you can't take risks like this.
Deciding I’m done, I put my phone in my pocket -yes my dress has pockets!- without replying. I finish descending the stairs and go searching for my friends.
I make my way through the edges of the dancing crowd rejoicing in the absence of any murderous thoughts.
See Ty, I can handle it.
Claire and Bree had been right up near the DJ booth when I spotted them from the mezzanine so I dive deeper into the throng. finding them easily enough, they cheer at my appearance, and drag me into the middle of their circle.
I let myself get lost in the beat, trying to forget my messages with Ty. I jump and twirl to the fast tempo, very much less graceful than Bree’s near professional dance skills. The skirt onmy emerald skater dress flies around my hips as I swing them, letting the music move me.
Thanks to the blood I’ve been drinking I’m not using my glamour on my body anymore. I finally look and feel healthy again and I’m going to celebrate. I’ve even let some of the red back into my hair tonight. It's worth celebrating.
After several songs a guy from our group appears with a tray of shots in hand. As he reaches us I see his gaze linger on Claire, on her tight purple mini dress. Bree catches it too and I wonder if she had particular friends in mind when she asked about setting us up the other day. She catches me giving her a questioning look and shrugs a shoulder as she grins at me.
Once everyone has a shot in hand we clink the tiny glasses in cheer’s but as I lift mine towards my lips an arm reaches over my shoulder, plucking the glass out of my hand.
I spin on my heels ready to yell at whomever is stealing my drink but I’m struck immobile. The male before me sinks the shot in one before offering me a smile that heats my insides like I had just drunk the alcohol he stole from me.
“Hello, Red,” Ty purrs, his voice somehow reaching me over the music.
He’s in a fitted black button down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and washed out black jeans which look like they’ve been tailored to fit his muscular thighs. His hair is a damp mop of curls flopping over his head, fresh from a shower. I’ve not seen him dressed up like this before, I realise, as my gaze does a second sweep of his body. Dressed like this he looks every bit the predator of the night. I swear I see the shadows thickening in swirls around his legs too.
He stretches over me again to put the empty shot glass back on the tray and I catch a whiff of his cinnamon scent.
“Like what you see?” he whispers in my ear before pulling back. He puts his fingers under my chin, closing my dropped jaw.
“That drink was mine,” I stutter over the words. With him looking this good my earlier anger is nowhere to be found.
Gods, dammit.
“I need to catch up.” He shrugs before stepping back so he can sweep his gaze down my body. Taking in my outfit, his eyes linger on my bare legs. The blush rises up my throat and covers my cheeks at his appraisal.
“You’re really here.” Maybe it's a good thing he stole my shot, clearly my brain is more inebriated than I thought if I’m going to keep speaking the obvious.
“Yes, Red, I am.” He steps closer again, placing a hand at my waist. I instinctively step forward, closing the gap between us even more, as he starts to move us to the music. “I managed to escape for a while, although I’m sure I’ll pay for it later.”
“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” I tell him sincerely.
“Oh, I think I’m already in deep trouble, Red.” His gaze locks to mine and my brain just stops. I’m caught in those crystal blue eyes and the only thing I can remember is when he looked at me with that much heat last weekend.
“I want you to be mine.”
“Is this the mystery guy?” Bree chooses this moment to bounce into our space, placing one of her hands on my shoulder, and the other on Ty’s arm, breaking the moment. I have to laugh as her energy is turned up to the max. “Are you the mystery guy?” she questions Ty directly as she does her own assessment of all six-foot-everything of him.
“Yes, this is…” I go to introduce them but then remember I’m not sure if I can tell her his name.
“Ty,” he finishes for me, answering my silent question.
