Page 87 of The Fool

“Hey, I’m with him,” he unhelpfully replies, getting to his feet and joining Ben in his quest to completely humiliate my family in front of everyone. “You want company kicking his ass?”

Ben merely shrugs, then nods, before leading the way. The two of them set off like two vigilantes about to go and have a showdown with the local villain.

“Nate!” I shout while trying to grab at him. “What are you doing?”

“The guy hurt you, so I’m more than happy to hurt him,” he says like it’s a perfectly rational decision to go and beat the groom up. A big old confrontation in the middle of Emma’s wedding, in front of my parents, plus the bitches who bullied me for years? No thank you.

“For fuck’s sake, stop it, both of you!” I yell angrily, though it doesn’t get me any sort of response. “If you don’t stop, I will strip right here and parade around the place like I’m on special offer!”

A strange and bold threat, I know, but I have no other ideas right now. I’m sure as hell not going to let them march in there and humiliate Emma and my parents on her wedding day, even if it is based on lies.

To be fair, it does the trick. Both of them swing around to glare at me, probably to question my sanity after suggesting such a thing.

“You wouldn’t dare, Summers,” Nate smirks, though there’s an element of fear in that smile. Ben looks at him as if to say, ‘Sort your girlfriend out’.

“Oh yeah?” I challenge him as I begin unzipping my dress from behind. I’ll admit, wearing just my underwear instead of this ridiculous outfit is marginally tempting, but I’m doing this for a higher purpose. The stubborn bastard remains standing where he is, as if daring me to go further. The trouble is, I’m just as stubborn, so with my eyes fixed on his, I proceed to wriggle out of my dress to reveal a strapless bra, lace panties, and the most painfully high shoes I’ve ever worn.

“Fucking hell, Beatrice!” Nate yells at the same time as marching over to try and wrap his suit jacket around my near-naked body. I shove at him, stopping him from getting anywhere near me, which earns me a stern glare. “Beatrice!”

“Holy shit!” a waiter gasps to his friend when they turn the corner to find a scene that looks like it’s part of a porno.

“Beatrice, if you don’t let me cover you up right now, I will force it on you, and then I will carry you away where no other fucker can set his eyes on you!”

“Are you going to --” I begin to argue, but another waiter soon follows and stops dead in his tracks to stare at me, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

“Right, that’s it,” Nate growls through clenched teeth, forcing his jacket around me and then throwing me over his shoulder. I yelp and order him to let me go but he ignores my threats and begins marching toward the exit. “We’re out, Ben!”

“Ben, don’t you dare go in there and destroy Emma in front of everybody!” I shout at him from upside down. To my surprise, he’s laughing to himself, taking great delight in my being chastised by a guy who isn’t him.

As soon as we reach Nate’s Mercedes, he pulls open the door and shoves me inside with a scowl on his face and a look in his eye that tells me I’m in trouble. Without any words, he marches around the car to the driver’s seat, gets in, and proceeds to wheel spin down the driveway. Gravel flies up behind us as we speed away.

As he drives, his teeth remain clenched together, his brow furrowed, and every muscle in his body tensed up with anger. He looks so pissed off, even I’m a little nervous. In fact, we don’t talk or look at each other for nearly ten minutes; it’s only when his shoulders soften a little that I dare to try and say something.

“Nate?” I venture, but he doesn’t move an inch. “Are you gonna say something?”

He remains silent and after a while of being ignored, my anxiety turns into frustration, followed by anger. Ok, so stripping off to my underwear in public might not have been the best idea but diving in to beat up the groom wasn’t exactly a top-notch one either. Like two stubborn kids, we continue in this state until he suddenly turns off down a road that appears to be leading into woodland; the type of place you’d bring your dog for a walk. I look at him for some kind of explanation, but still, he says nothing.

Eventually, the road leads to a small clearing where Nate slams on the brakes and forces the car to an abrupt stop. It’s not even dark and I know I should be back before the first dance, otherwise, my parents will notice my absence. Worrying about them only makes me want to lose my temper, so I sigh loudly enough to make my anger known. He grips hold of the wheel but still says nothing.

“You don’t bring all your victims here, do you?”

“Get out of the car, Summers,” he orders, causing my anxiety levels to rise again.Is he going to leave me here?

“Take me back, Nate,” I whisper, “or at least take me to a train station or something.”

Nate ignores me as he gets out of the car and paces around to my side with angry determination. He opens the door and holds out his hand for mine. I stare at it like it’s a ticking timebomb, all while remaining frozen in my seat.

“You said you trust me, right?” he asks, sounding a little irritated by my refusal to move.

I look at his hand again before slowly placing mine inside of it. As soon as his fingers have clasped hold of mine, he pulls me out and marches us to the front of the car. I’m left standing with his jacket tightly wrapped around me, all the while he looks me up and down with his arms firmly crossed and his boss-hole stare that used to make me inwardly shiver with nervous anticipation.

“Lose the jacket, Summers,” he orders with a jut of his chin. “Place it on the hood.”

With fear, or possibly excitement - my head isn’t exactly functioning at full capacity right now - I do as he says, leaving me in just my underwear and shoes. I’m so exposed right now, but the look in his eyes is dark, lustful, and a little dangerous.

“Turn around and place your hands on top of the coat, Beatrice,” he says, quirking a brow as though daring me to deny him.

I slowly do as he says, all the while breathing out in anticipation. The ground crunches beneath his shoes, and when he is up close behind me, I feel a desperation to have him put his hands on me. Though, when I look down and to the side, I notice his hands are stubbornly remaining inside of his pockets.

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