Page 81 of Playing Flirty

The music picked up, and Neema zigzagged through the crowd toward me and pulled me onto the dance floor. We danced together until Shaun joined us, openly grinding against Neema. I could not resist searching for William. He stood a few feet away, smiling and watching me in a way I’d come to crave. I motioned for him to join us, but he shook his head.

Letting the music course through me, I skipped toward him. He put his arms out defensively, but I grabbed ahold of them and pulled.

“No, no, no,” he murmured.

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen your victory dance more times than I’d have liked.”

He laughed, unconvinced.

“If it’s that bad, people will think Patrick can’t dance,” I teased.

“The problem is…” He allowed me to pull him onto the dance floor. “I don’t want Patrick taking credit for my smooth moves.”

He wiggled his body, and I joined him, swaying to the music as the weight lifted off my shoulders. William’s big, stiff body slowly loosened up. Then it loosened more, and I was confused at how he could move so much in a suit that appeared so restrictive.

He danced up behind me, close enough for our bodies to graze each other, but not close enough to attract any attention.

I’d been drinking so much water that I needed to pee. It was an event peeling these pants down and dragging them up again, but I’d waited as long as I could. I left William to third-wheel Shaun and Neema’s best enactment of sex on the dance floor and went to the bathroom.

After what felt like an hour of struggling with my costume, I hurried out and found Mr. Markham waiting outside the door wearing a Superman T-shirt. His eyes were glossed over and his cheeks red. It wasn’t surprising, considering how much alcohol he consumed at every office party he attended—alone, despite everyone being encouraged to bring their partner or a friend.

His eyes roamed down my body, and an unpleasant smile spread across his face. “You tease.”

My heart rate picked up, and I took a step back against the bathroom door. “You’re drunk. Go away.”

He took a step closer. “You reported me, you little tart. As if you aren’t part of this, with your cleavage out and yourconstant smiling… your sugary-sweet voice that I can already hear moaning my name.”

My legs wobbled, and nausea built in my stomach. I couldn’t think over the panic pulsing through me.

I turned on my heel and walked away, but he was fast and grabbed my wrist in a tight squeeze. The smell of strong liquor washed over my senses.

“Stop it,” I choked out and wrenched my arm futilely against his tight grip.

“Let go,” William’s voice boomed from behind us.

Mr. Markham spun around to face him. I struggled to breathe or swallow in the seconds that passed.

William walked around Mr. Markham and stood between us. His eyes, even from where I stood, were focused and harsh. “And apologize to her.”

“Stay out of this,” Mr. Markham spat, a crude laugh—if that’s what it could be called—escaping him.

“Apologize,” William said again. There was no room in his tone for negotiating. “Now.”

“Make me.” Mr. Markham took a step toward an unflinching William and shoved him.

A muscle in William’s jaw flexed, and he widened his shoulders. Mr. Markham tried again, but William was an unmovable mountain.

A sneer crept onto Mr. Markham’s face. His fist curled at his side, and then he threw a punch, making contact with the underside of William’s jaw.

William’s head snapped to the left as a gasp was pulled out of me. Finally gaining control of my limbs, I ran to William. In a flash, he was holding Mr. Markham in the air by his T-shirt, his legs dangling like a rag doll’s. As though he’d done it a thousand times, William craned his head back and thensnapped it forward, headbutting Mr. Markham before throwing him to the ground.

I grabbed William by the wrist, his fists still curled, and dragged him away. In a situation of fight or flight, I chose flight. My parents never hit me, they rarely even raised their voices, and I’d never in my life witnessed something like this.

“Let’s go,” I said as two people approached Mr. Markham, who was struggling to sit up.

William tore his gaze away from them and met mine. He inhaled sharply, and his expression froze. “Shoot, Rose. I didn’t mean to… That was instinct. I—”

His voice shook with adrenaline almost as much as my legs shook beneath me.

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