Page 24 of Elusive

“Bet.” I swat her ass and head toward the break room and my locker, but not too fast... ‘cause I know she’s got her eyes on my jeans, watching me walk away.

*****

God must’ve felt bad about the way my day had begun and decided to give my night an upgrade — because I’ve had over an hour pretty much to myself with just Presley — Brynn and Camden on the dancefloor, Bellamy and JT a table over from us… because it has a better view of Brynn and Camden.

Speaking of which… “That’s it, we’re dancing, baby!” JT bellows loud enough to steal my attention for a second.

“But you don’t dance,” Bellamy giggles. (Yes, her hand got stamped, right before she started sneaking sips of J and Presley’s drinks, so she’s feeling “happy.”)

“I do now. Motherfucker hasn’t given my sister a breather in six songs. Six! That’s five-and-a-half too many. Move your fine ass, woman.”

“Poor Brynny,” Presley sighs. “She’s gonna die an old, virgin cat-lady. And poor, poor, Ryder, he’s as good as friend-zoned. Cameron has her smitten,” she calls him by the wrong name, which I damn sure don’t correct, holding onto her with one hand while I drag her stool right next to mine with the other. “You got me?” she squeals, a lil’ off-balance, having consumed half her body weight in daiquiris.

“You know I do. This big ass body,” I use her phrase that I like, a lot, “would never let anything happen to you.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” She lays her head on my shoulder, and it takes titantic restraint not to bury my face in her hair. “Sutton Patrick Ellis,” she hums, no trouble remembering my name — the whole damn thing — “why did we break up again?”

“What?” I’m not sure if I yell, snarl, laugh, or all three, too stupefied to tell. “Okay, you’re cut off, beyond drunk enough if you think that’s even fucking close to what happened.”

She pays no mind to my reply, testing my willpower, sanity, and soul to their limits with what she does next. Peering up at me with eyes of the lost, though begging to be found or not, I can’t quite tell, she finds my hand under the table and guides it to the inside of her thigh, sliding it up her silky skin. My pinky wanders, brushing against a swollen lip of her bare, wet pussy and a depraved growl vibrates my whole chest.

“Presley, fuck, Sugar. Don’t do this to me now, not while you’re drunk. You know you’re my biggest weakness, powerful enough to bring me to my knees. Don’t abuse that power.” I’ve dipped my head, unable to resist teasing my tongue along the spot just below her ear that I know drives her wild, as I beg.

“Me? What about you? No man ever stays on my mind. I don’t chase, Sutton, I get chased. But you, you turned me away. I’ve never felt so foolish in my entire life. It’s been months, and I still lay in bed, every night, and-”

“Hey, Honey!”

No, no fucking way. I’m hallucinating. Please let me be hallucinating.

“Hello? Sutton, honey?” No such luck, it’s real, Hailey’s second pitchy, ill-timed interruption is unmistakable, and has Presley jolting back from me, her dreamy lids now wide open, eyes bulging, my hand forcefully removed — and the rest of her sentence left for me to agonizingly ponder.

Somebody just fucking kill me already. End my suffering. It’s called mercy for God’s sake.

“Hailey… um… hey,” I manage somewhat tolerantly, “what’re you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” She snickers, wrapping both arms around my neck before I’ve gathered my bearings enough to dodge the attack. Maybe she is the Angel of Death, sent to strangle me. At this point, I’m good with that. “This is where my boyfriend works, why wouldn’t I be here? Oh, this is my best friend, Manda. Manda, this is my boyfriend, Sutton.”

“Nice to meet you,” her friend mutters, looking just as uncomfortable as me.

“Damn. I am so out. Good luck,” Presley mumbles under her breath, standing, about to walk away and leave me stranded, but Hailey lets go of me and quickly reaches out to grab her arm.

“Hang on, I want to ask you something.”

Not good.

I’m on my feet in a flash, ready to stop the ass-kicking Presley’s about to deliver.

“Listen,” Pres shocks me with her bored tone, “I get it, you don’t like me. I even get why. Understandable. So, take your hand off me, and I’ll leave. Let you two talk.”

“How nice of you,” Hailey sneers.

“Hailey, stop,” the friend pleads with her. “She’s trying to be nice.”

“Listen to her.” Presley’s warning is politely loaded. She’s about to blow, having already taken waymore shit from Hailey than I would’ve ever imagined her capable.

“Hey, what… uh...” Bellamy’s talking, well, pausing, the four “dancers” having now joined us. “I’m Bellamy. And you, grabbing Presley’s arm, are?”

“Goddamn lucky,” JT’s snarl matches the look he’s shooting me. “I don’t remember your name, but I remember you’re crazy. Sutton told ya he was done fucking with you, I was there, heard him, so why you’re here I’m not sure. I can tell ya, though, you need to take your hand off my cousin and get the fuck gone. Now. Maybe head to a doctor, or pharmacy, and ask them to double your dose.”

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