Page 39 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

“The boys know if they so much as look at another girl they’ll regret it,” Liv adds.

God, I envy them.

Their confidence and unwavering belief in their relationships.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” Tally smacks her lips together, blotting the corners of her mouth with a tissue. “What do you think?”

“You look gorgeous,” Liv says. “We should totally snap some photos to send to the boys. Show them what they’re missing out on.”

“Good idea.” A devious smile graces her lips as the three of them huddle together. “Come on, Abs, you need to get in here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” I wave them off, pretending to fix my hair in the mirror.

They don’t push it and I’m relieved even if a little disappointed.

But then someone thrusts another drink at me, and Tally declares a toast, “To girls’ night.”

We down our drinks and a shudder rolls through me.

“Ready?” Raine asks me quietly, and I nod.

As I’ll ever be.

The bar we go to is a weird mix of students and locals. The music vibrates through my chest making me feel a little light-headed, but I soak it up, enjoying the distraction from my own thoughts.

“Shots?” Tally calls and the girls nod as we make our way to the bar.

Liv leads the way, cutting a path through the sea of bodies as if she owns the place.

I guess when your surname is Beckworth, your brother is an Heir, and your father is one of the county’s most revered lawyers she kind of does.

“Abs, you good?” Tally squeezes my hand, startling me. But I cover my momentary panic with a smile.

“Yeah, fine.”

“I’m really glad you came,” she goes on. “I know it’s been a horrible few weeks but you have to try and move forward.”

“Yeah.” My smile is tight.

“Do you want a soft drink?” she asks as we finally reach the sleek black and chrome bar. I shake my head.

“No, I’ll have a drink but nothing too strong. And no shots.”

“Are you sure? A shot might help.”

“Fine.” I concede. “Maybe one.”

She turns to Liv to order our drinks and two minutes later, I have a shot glass in one hand and a sugary cocktail in the other.

“On three,” Raine announces, holding up her shot. “One. Two. Three.”

They all knock back their shots and I hesitate. This isn’t me, not really. But I don’t want to be sad little Abigail Bancroft. Not tonight.

I want to forget.

To forget my grief and heartache and the constant pit in my stomach.

Without overthinking it, I drink my shot, chasing it down with the sugary sweet cocktail.

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