Page 68 of Dirty Martini
“Watch it,” I hiss lowly, tugging Everest away.
Knox raises his eyebrows, surprised for a second, before that confusion morphs into something dangerously irritated. “Rhys, always a pleasure. What are you doing here?”
“I was invited,” I say simply.
He turns to Everest. “Yeah?”
“You said to invite whoever,” Everest replies with an easy shrug, not sensing the tension.
Knox rolls his bottom lip into his mouth with a small nod. “Great. Babe, want to play some beer pong?”
Babe. Okay, that shit really needs to stop. Possessiveness consumes me. Everest is nothisbabe, and that point needs to be made loud and clear. It’s a bit juvenile, but I wrap a territorial arm around his waist, tugging him to my side. Everest opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. “Yeah, baby. We could be a team.”
“Baby?” Knox asks through gritted teeth.
Everest nods, a bright and dopey smile on his face as he looks at me. “It’s new.”
“That’s…” Knox swallows harshly, forcing a smile. “That’s great.”
Oh shit.
Knox and Everest might have been sleeping together casually, but it wasn’t casual at all for Knox. I can see how he wantsmyman. The way his eyes narrow and something resembling hurt crosses his features at the arm around Everest’s waist. I wonder how Everest hasn’t noticed that, but my guy is sweet and good-natured. There’s no way he would intentionally lead his friend on.
“Are you okay?” Everest questions, cocking his head. “Knox?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Knox rushes out as he clears his throat. “I just need to make the rounds before we play.”
“Great,” I tell him with a victorious grin. I rub Everest’s hip, pressing a kiss to his ear. “I know what we can do while we wait.”
Knox’s face falls, and I briefly feel like an asshole for rubbing this in. I understand being obsessed with Everest, but it’s that same fixation that makes me like this. Being with Everest has unlocked the monster within me that might have always been there, simmering underneath the surface, ready to be set free.
“What do you think is up with him?” Everest asks with a pout as Knox walks away. “Maybe I should go after him?—”
“He’s fine,” I say, tugging him back toward the living room. “He’s always been a moody asshole.”
He punches my shoulder. “Be nice.”
“Thisisme being nice,” I counter with a smooth smirk. I kiss up his neck, nibbling just behind his ear, which causes him to let out a soft and breathy sigh. “Can we go home now?”
“Why do you always pull this shit?”
I whip my head to the side at the loud, angry voice. I hate the fact that I recognize that slightly nasally register. Of course, Ricky can’t go anywhere without picking a fight with Skylar.
They’re standing by the sliding glass door, Ricky’s hands in the air as he towers over Skylar. Skylar is wringing his fingers with a look that resembles fear, even though he’s trying to keep a shaky smile on his face.
“Ricky, please,” he says, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “Lower your voice.”
“I told you I didn’t want to come out and, here you are, acting like a fucking whore,” Ricky spits. Then he scoffs, gesturing at Skylar’s outfit. “What the fuck are you even wearing?”
Skylar pouts and looks down at his sparkly pink crop top. “I like this shirt.”
“Cut the tears, Skylar. I’m not buying it.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he taps his foot impatiently before snatching Skylar’swrist. “We’re leaving. If you can’t go somewhere and act like a normal human, we’re not going anywhere at all.”
He yanks Skylar hard enough that he stumbles and hits his hip against the table holding all the drinks. A bottle of vodka shatters and drenches Skylar’s bottom half, and I already know what’s coming. Skylar is very…sensitive. In a good way. It makes him a great person to be around because he’s constantly in touch with his emotions in a way that’s surprisingly endearing, but it also makes him a crier, and that’s exactly what happens when he bursts into tears.
And where there’s a crying Skylar, there’s always?—
“Hey! Fuck off!”
