Page 75 of Take What You Want

He knows she’s head over heels for him, and he’s the same for her. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an engagement on the horizon for them before long.

She bites her lip and checks her phone.

I check out the men over her shoulder. They glance at us and when I catch one of their eyes, he gives a slight nod and raises his drink. I mirror the action back with a small smile and turn my attention back to the girls.

“He’s not half bad,” Scar says, catching the interaction. “Not my type, but maybe yours?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling like my dress is too tight as I can feel his eyes continue to watch me. “Kinda reminds me of my ex,” I joke. Liam used to go out dressed just like this guy. Slacks, pressed shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and an expensive watch to garner attention and to prove that he had money to spend.

I can’t help but think about how Nikolai wears a similar style, but it has such a different effect. It’s not a mask he’s putting on or dressing nicely to try to prove himself to anyone. His half-buttoned shirts look effortless on him and lived in. Not stiff or stuffy.

And the watch he always wears probably costs more than this guys does, but he doesn’t wear it to prove he has money. It’s the sentimental value of it that has him putting it on every morning.

Fuck, get out of my head, Nikolai.Tonight was supposed to be about forgetting him.

“Think I should go thank him for the drinks?” I ask Scar.

She looks disgusted at the idea but waves her hand at me. “If you feel so inclined. But I’m not getting up.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.” I chuckle. Condensation clings to my glass as I bring it to my lips and toss back the last of my tequila soda.

But before I can grab the gifted drink and go over to their spot at the bar, the two men approach our table. The taller one, the one dressed like my ex, pushes his shoulders back as he stands between me and Scar. “You ladies looked thirsty,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he tries to yell over the music.

Scar gives him the dullest look I’ve ever seen and I hide my laugh with my drink. Pure annoyance rolls off her at their interruption but neither of them seem to pick up on it.

“Are you all from around here?” the shorter one, standing between Carter and Scar, asks the table but he hasn’t peeled his eyes away from Carter since they walked up. She shifts on her stool, angling her body away.

“No,” Scar says flatly.

Carter gives her awhat the fucklook but Scar isn’t deterred.

“Where are you from?” the taller one asks her.

“Wisconsin.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and look to see Carter doing the same, catching onto Scar’s game.

“What brought you out to LA? Modeling?”

I almost feel bad for the guy.Almost. He runs a hand through his hair and puts on his best smile as he delivers the cheesy line. His buddy tries to lean in to say something in Carter’s ear, but she quickly ducks away.

“A funeral,” Scar answers.

The guy blinks for a moment and for the first time in this interaction, I can see his internal debate whether she’s been bullshitting him this whole time or not.

“You serious?” He laughs weakly.

Scar turns and although she barely reaches his chest even sitting down, she reduces him to two feet tall with her glare. “Do you think I’d lie about something like that?”

His mouth opens and shuts, at a loss of how to recover this situation.

I sip on my free drink as I watch the interaction. Not like they had a chance to begin with either of them, but even if Scar and Carter weren’t already in relationships, these guys wouldn’t even be getting their phone numbers.

It doesn’t escape my notice that neither of them try talking to me, even as I sit right here in the mix. It shouldn’t bother me, because it’s not like I feel any particular attraction to either of them, but it brings that all too familiar feeling crawling up the back of my throat and making my eyes grow hot as I blink.

I scan the room, watching groups of friends dance together and yell at each other over the music. Couples grind against one another, some in sync with the music and others too far past the point of caring. Cheeks flushed, energy high, the club is alive.

And yet I feel myself disassociating from it. The longing for my bed and quiet grows louder in my head.

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