Page 85 of Ruthless Chaos
Each beat of the bassline sends me higher.
I move my body quicker. Tara’s there with me, her body close and moving in sync with mine. We dance and dance.
For the first time, I feel free.
The crowd moves in closer to us. I start dancing with the girl who ends up beside me.
The guy behind Tara puts his hands around her, and she leans into him. Their bodies are pressed against each other, and she drops her head into the crook of his neck.
I let go of her hand. She gives me a smile.
She wants to dance with him instead.
That’s fine, I remind myself. That’s the whole reason we’re here.
I don’t know the girl I’m dancing with, but she’s gorgeous—and not blond, so I know she’s not from Hemlock.
The music transitions to a raunchier tune, and she puts her hands on my hips. My heart rate picks up, but I keep dancing, riding the slow, seductive beat.
I’m caught off guard when she puts her hands on my face and kisses me.
Stunned, I pull away, my face twisting into an awkward smile. She seems confused and leans in again. I put a hand up to block her lips from meeting mine.
She narrows her eyes—they glimmer like shards of obsidian.
“Oh, you’re a stuck-up Hemlock bitch?” Though she’s smiling as she shouts over the music, her words are angry. She frowns, wide-eyed.
I grimace. My trance crumbles.
That has nothing to do with why I rejected her advances. I would have done the same to anyone if they tried to kiss me without warning.
Well, noteveryone.
She turns away from me angrily, as ifI’mthe one who offendedher.
Looking around in the crowd, I find Tara. She’s locked in areallyclose dance with the guy. He’s got a tight grip on her hips, she’s got her arms around his neck.
I catch her eye, motioning that I’m going to get us both drinks.
She nods, then she’s back to dancing with this mystery guy. He’s handsome, but I feel protective of Tara. I’ll have to keep an eye on them throughout the night.
Avoiding the flailing arms and legs of the dancing crowd, I leave the dancefloor. When I get to the bar, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Things are quieter here. The music isn’t as loud, and the crowd is sparse compared to the throng on the dance floor. The line moves quickly, and soon it’s my turn to order.
I ask for two vodka limes, and step aside to wait.
“You’re looking exceptionally beautiful tonight,” a voice startles me out of my contemplation.
It’s Liam.
He’s dressed casually, in a fitted button up that hugs his lithe frame like a second skin, and a pair of slacks. His smile is bright, his green eyes sparkling as they move slowly over my body.
There’s appreciation in them. I’m taken back at how good it makes me feel.
My cheeks heat up.
“Thank you,” I say, moving my hair out of my face. It’s still mostly straight, though I’m not sure how well it will hold up to the humidity of the party.
