Page 33 of Hate To Love You

Logan lifts his fifth beer of the night to his lips and takes a long swig.

“Well done, boys. Well done,” Logan nods in the direction of the mass of people in front of us.

“Hey, where’s Adrianna tonight?” Pat asks elbowing Logan in the arm softly and lifting his own beer bottle to his mouth and taking a sip.

Logan shrugs. “Who knows. Probably out fucking some other guy,” he says coldly. Logan mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out before he sulk away.

Patrick and I share a look of confusion, while Holland blows out a breath of air.

“Shit, that sucks.”

I hand Pat my beer after deciding that I should probably go find my brother. We don’t talk much, and we definitely don’t share our feelings with one another, but something’s wrong with him, and I need to find out what.

As I make my way through the crowd, I’m run into by several drunk students milling about. I swerve around a couple groping each other in the middle of the room and stop when I see familiar faces.

Ellie, Lainey, and the guy from class stand together as they laugh and drink, but Gwen is not with them. Did she know the party was here, so she decided not to come? Was she okay? Why wouldn’t she come with her friends?

Why am I so concerned? Jesus Christ, I shouldn’t care this much about her.

But even my thoughts don’t hold me back from walking up to the group to ask where she is.

“Hey,” I begin, making them all whip their heads around to look at me. Ellie glares my way, and Lainey smiles. The guy from class, who I still haven’t figured out his name, stands with his arms over his chest.

“Hey, Ryker. What’s up?” Lainey says brightly. Her coiled brown hair is in pigtails and her tan skin makes the makeup on her face stand out. I wonder if Holland’s seen Ellie yet. Her skimpy bunny costume is definitely going to piss him off, and I want to be there when shit goes down.

“Did Gwen come with you guys?” Fuck, I sound like a desperate teenager. I don’t do this shit. I don’t chase. I don’t get hooked on one girl, ever. This is not me. And yet, I don’t care.

“Yeah, she’s right over there,” Lainey points in the direction of the dance floor, where I spot a curly haired brunette in a sexy maid costume that leaves little to the imagination. She’s dancing like she doesn’t have a care in the world, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this happy.

Gwen has a genuine smile on her face. She sways her hips to the music as her hands run through her long hair, her long toned legs accentuated by her white knee length socks. God, she looks like a fucking wet dream.

But then I see she’s not alone. Some stupid fucker in a fireman’s costume sets his grubby hands on her hips and I see red as they move around to cup her ass.

Her body stiffens and I can see she’s clearly uncomfortable, but the guy keeps going. Before I know it, the guy’s stupid suspenders are in my fist and I’m throwing him to the ground.

The rest of the encounter is a blur, and then I’m pulling Gwen away from the prick who put his hands on her. She stumbles behind me, trying to keep up with my long strides to the front door.

My breathing is rapid, and my heartbeat is pounding in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I’ve never gotten into a fight over a girl. I’ve never wanted to crush another man for touching something that doesn’t belong to him. But Gwen doesn’t belong to me either.

I don’t even give myself time to dwell on that fact as I begin to open the door. But before I can, Gwen rips her hand out of my grasp and stares at me as if I’m insane.

All I want to do is get her out of here. Get her away from me, because when she’s around me, my thoughts aren’t rational. I don’t want to be having these feelings about her. The need to protect her. The need to make sure she’s okay. I shouldn’t care.

“What are you doing?” Gwen snaps, crossing her tiny arms over her chest, making her cleavage even more prominent.

Part of me wants to yell at her for wearing that costume, if you can even call it that. There’s practically nothing there, and I know every guy in there was watching her. That thought alone almost makes me turn around and punch anyone that even glanced in her direction.

“We’re leaving,” I tell her. I’m going to bring her home and make sure she stays there. I don’t exactly know how, but if I have to tie her down, I will. Jesus, who the hell am I?

“I’m not leaving,” Gwen’s hands land on her hips, and maybe she’d be more intimidating if she wasn’t in a maid’s costume and wasn’t the size of my pinky finger.

I release a sharp breath. “Yes, you are. Come on,” I demand, reaching for her hand once again, but she backs away, almost tripping over herself. I eye her suspiciously. Her eyes are glazed over, and her cheeks are flushed. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah, and? It’s a party, Ryker,” she throws her hands up in the air, gesturing to the chaos around us, a small chuckle leaving her bright red lips. My anger rises, and this time, it’s not at the fireman. It’s at her. Why would she let herself get this bad?

I open the door and grab Gwen’s wrist, pulling her out of the house with me. She stumbles and almost falls into me before steadying herself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” she yells, stomping one foot on the ground like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I stifle a laugh at the sight, because even though she’s mad, and even though I’m mad, she looks adorable. My fists clench as I try to keep my temper in check.

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