Page 76 of Take What You Want

After a particularly scathing look from Scar, it finally seems to click for the one guy that he’s not going to get anywhere with her and he turns to me. His eyes scan me up and down, and I wish it didn’t, but his look sends awareness of every curve and roll on my body.

Before he can even open his mouth, I take a page from Scar’s book and say, “I’m married.”

His eyes dip to my left hand.

“It’s getting cleaned,” I say in the absence of a ring on my finger. The lie sounds obvious to my ears and likely to his as well, but at this point, he accepts it.

It’s not like I was his first choice anyways.

The guys bid their farewells and scamper off to go find new prospects after crashing and burning at our table.

As soon as they’re out of sight, Carter leans in and says, “That was so awkward!”

“For them.” Scar snorts.

I chew on my straw as they lament, not really feeling the desire to join in the conversation.

After Carter finishes her drink, she shouts, “Let’s go dance!”

Scar immediately hops off her barstool, itching to get moving. “Finally.”

Carter stands and they wait expectantly for me to do the same.

“I’ll join you guys in a bit.”

She frowns. “But we came out tonight so we could do this.”

“I know,” I say. And I couldn’t wait to dance tonight, but suddenly I’m too aware of every inch of my body and the way I look. It’s like I’m a little ant under a magnifying glass, squirming uncomfortably on the sidewalk. Although I know no one is paying as much attention to me as I am myself, self-consciousness doesn’t listen to logic.

“I’m just going to grab another drink and then I’ll meet you guys there.”

Scar gives me a doubtful look. “We can stay here until you’re ready.”

I shrug them off. “You go ahead. Promise I’ll be out there soon.”

They exchange a look and then reluctantly head onto the dance floor. The mob quickly absorb them until I only catch brief flashes of them as the crowd sways in opposite directions.

Sitting here alone is just as uncomfortable as the idea of going out on the dance floor right now. I slam the last of my drink back and hop off my stool, ready to go find a bathroom to collect myself quickly. I don’t want to let my head ruin a night out for me. My feet are solid beneath me even with the liquor running through my system.

I dodge people as I weave through the club toward the bathroom. My head spins at the mix of perfumes and colognes. The bathroom finally comes into sight when a gentle, yet forceful hand, stops me in my tracks.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice sounds over the music.

I step back so the man’s hand drops, defenses rising.

The man is a huge wall of muscle wrapped up in all black clothing and a buzz cut. “Someone is requesting you upstairs.”

I blink. “What?”

“Upstairs.”

“I don’t—” Before I can even finish my sentence, with hand in the middle of my back, he guides me toward a roped off staircase.

He waits expectantly for me to climb them and I try to look over his shoulder to see if I can catch Scar or Carter’s attention.

I’m sure I’m not getting abducted in the middle of a club, but I’m not so willing to just blindly trust this random man.

“I just need to let me friends know where I’m going,” I tell him, pulling my phone out of my bag. There’s no way either of them will be checking their texts out on the dance floor, but this buys me some time to think through the alcohol taking up space in my brain.

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