Page 102 of Without You, Scotch and Sammy 2

I shake my head, and though I’m here to talk to her, I’m not taking my eyes off him. Her man is drunk and handsy, and he palms her tits like he did way back in high school. “Get your hands off her, Biff. Have some fucking respect at my brother’s wedding.”

He smiles arrogantly. “She’s my wife, kid. And my name is Drew. I know you remember that.”

“Come dance with me, Poot. Spend some time with an old friend.”

Her eyes sparkle – not with beauty, but with pain and frustration. “Please just go away, Marc.”

I snag her wrist and pull her along anyway. No way in hell am I leaving her with him. I lead her to the dance floor a full thirty feet away from him, then turning so our bodies come flush, I press my hand to her lower back and begin swaying. “What the hell is the matter with you, Poot? Him? Really?”

“Don’t even.” She tries to pull away from me. “My marriage is absolutely none of your business.”

“Biff?” We breathe the same air as I study her eyes. “Are you really that hard up for attention? Jesus, Meg. You’re better than that.”

“I see you’re exactly the same as high school. Stubborn and grumpy and unable to mind your own damn business.”

I pull her slim dancer’s body against mine again, forcing a fragrant breath to explode from her lungs. Her long hair tickles my hand, and her long lashes flutter and tease. “I’m just saying, you’re better than that. You’re worth more than a man who’ll grab one of your best friend’s tits at Soda’s wedding.”

Her stubborn chin juts out. “I didn’t see him do that. I only have your word.”

She’s a fucking liar. “You’re also worth more than the guy who was gonna fuck you in the parking lot at prom.”

“Marc--”

“You were fighting him off, Meg!” My words are intense, but my voice is low. This is no one’s business but hers. And mine. “You weren’t saying yes. How are you even in the same room as him? How the fuck did you end up marrying him?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re a guy I went to school with almost half a lifetime ago. You weren’t even in my grade. You were a friend of a friend for a few months. You don’t get to have an opinion on my life.”

Her body is still stiff, her swaying almost nonexistent, but I force her body to roll with mine as Unchained Melody plays over the speakers. “You know that ain’t the truth. We were friends, so don’t bullshit me. I’m not here to break up a marriage, Meg. I’m just telling it to you straight. Your man is a piece of shit.”

“Yeah? Well he’s still my man, and standing here bitching about him is disrespectful. You want a dance with me? Fine. We can pretend to be friends. But I won’t disrespect my husband … See?” She smiles breathtakingly. “I know all about loyalty too.”

I shake my head. “I thought you were better than that, Poot--”

“And for the love of all that’s holy, stop calling me Poot!”

“Why?” I smirk and slide my hand over her hip. “I like it.”

“Because it’s a stupid name. It’s mean. It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s not my fault you farted when you were drunk.”

“Stop,” she groans and drops her face to my chest. “I’m begging you to stop.”

I lean down close to her ear, whispering softly, “Nah, don’t think I will. It’s been a decade and a half now. Some habits are hard to break… And well, some habits I just don’t wanna break… Poot.”

Oz

X and I sit at the bar with beers in our hands, and we watch the girls all dance and laugh. “This is fun.”

He smiles at me, then his eyes are inevitably drawn back to his Juliette. “Yeah, this is fun.”

“How does it feel to be married? Has she cut off supply yet?”

He laughs arrogantly. “Nope. I guess the myth that once you’re married you stop getting laid is simply that… a myth. My life is good.” He looks over at me with a filthy smirk. “I guess it’s almost time to find you a girl. I need to repay the shit you’ve given me for years.”

“Ha! I have a girl, X. I have several of ‘em.”

He rolls his eyes. “I meant a good girl.”

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