Page 101 of Through My Window
The music changes and gnash’s “i hate u, i love u” plays, and I turn to face him and sing it with him. He looks so cute, singing, looking into my eyes.
Ares takes my hand and makes me do a dramatic move. I burst out laughing, and he keeps singing. The world around us disappears; it’s just him and me, singing and dancing like idiots in the middle of the crowd. A sense of peace and joy pervades my heart.
I want to believe in him. I’ll give him one last shot to win my love. I’ll be cheering for the idiot Greek god who stole my heart.
THIRTY-SIX
The Drunken Girl
Sweat . . .
Margaritas . . .
Laughter . . .
Music . . .
I never thought I could sweat like this, but apparently dancing in a crowd of people has that effect. Everyone is cheerful right now. I’m a little dizzy, so I decide to stop drinking. Marco appears on the dance floor and his eyes meet mine. “Why don’t you dance with me, Raquel?”
My eyes travel to Ares, who’s talking to his friends but glancing at me frequently. Ares and I are in a very fragile situation right now. Although I’m making him win my heart, I don’t want to do anything that could lead to misunderstandings or uncomfortable situations. Marco is waiting for my answer, and I wrinkle my nose.
“Thanks, but maybe another day.”
Marco says nothing, just grabs his glass and, without taking his eyes off me, takes a long drink.
Gregory appears out of nowhere and gives me five. “What are you doing for Halloween? Do you have plans?”
I can barely hear him through the loud, pounding music.
“Not really, it’s still two weeks away.”
“We think we’re going to a party in town, I imagine you’re coming.”
Ares hasn’t mentioned it.
“Maybe.”
Gregory sighs. “Do you think I should be a vampire or a sexy cop?”
I laugh. Why does he have two such opposite options?
He taps my shoulder gently. “Seriously, I need a girl’s opinion.”
“Hmmm,” I look at him and imagine him in both costumes. “I think you’d make a very sexy vampire.”
“I knew it!” He looks proud, and I just smile.
I feel someone looking at me, and I glance around. Andrea is murdering me with her eyes.
“Your girlfriend doesn’t look very happy,” I tell him, taking a sip of my margarita. Gregory gives her a quick glance.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” I don’t say anything, not wanting to seem nosy, but Gregory keeps talking. “I liked her a lot, but . . . she’s just like her friends.”
“What do you mean?”
“All the boys at this table are from wealthy families,” he says, and my eyes go over each one of them: Ares, Zahid, Oscar, Luis, Marco, and then back to Gregory. “They’re the next managers and owners of companies, corporations, businesses . . .”
Gregory points to several guys dressed in black around the bar. “See those guys? They’re bodyguards. We’re never alone, even if it looks that way.”
