Page 151 of Beautiful Collide

But it’s enough to keep me here. At least for now.

55

Hudson

Thank fuck.

It’s finally time to leave, and not a moment too soon.

As the night winds down and the celebration comes to an end, Mason is still itching to continue the night.

Of course he is.

Mason—the fucker—has enough energy to power a small city, and right now, his life’s mission is dragging me along for the ride.

It’s the last thing I want to do.

Yet the man is relentless.

Don’t get me started on the guilt trip he’s throwing my way. I should be earning hotel points by now.

But, man, is he laying it on thick. I guess since everyone else already left, I’m his only option. Which is bullshit, because there are nineteen other guys who I’m sure would be more than happy to party with him.

Why the hell am I the unlucky one?

I trail Mason as he strolls out of the exit, and with each step, I try to think of a way to get out of it.

There’s only one place I want to be, and it’s not taking shots with Mason’s drunk ass. It’s alone with Molly.

I shove my hands deep into my pockets and continue to head out of the club and into the main area of the casino of the hotel we are staying at.

It’s complete sensory overload right now. The flashing lights. Chiming slot machines. Usually, I’d take it all in stride. Hell, a few years ago, I’d be right there with Mason, looking to continue the festivities, but right now, it feels like a distraction that’s keeping me from where I really want to be.

Speaking of Mason, the idiot is really making an ass of himself. From the corner of my eye, I see what he’s up to, and all I can say is . . .

Wow.

Either he’s the biggest idiot in the world, or he’s drunker than I realized. As he walks through the casino, he’s attempting some sort of dance move—if you can call it that—and failing miserably.

I cringe as he flails his arms and swivels his hips, and don’t even get me started on the crowd he’s amassing.

A crowd is forming and not in a good way. One woman has her cell phone trained on him, and it looks like she’s deciding whether she’s going to film him and send it to TMZ or call security.

I walk right past him because shit, I don’t need to be photographed with him. It’s bad enough Coach thinks I’m a moron. I can’t imagine what he would do if the press got embarrassing pictures of me.

“Where’re you going, Wilde?”

I halt my steps, turning around to look at him.

When I do, I can’t help but laugh. The man looks like an idiot. He has his button-down shirt over his head like a bandanna, andnow he’s just in an undershirt. I’m half expecting him to start doing the electric slide like a drunk guest at a wedding.

As bad as this is, I should consider him lucky because I’m not sure the hotel would look fondly at him if he were bare chested walking through the slot machines.

“We’re calling it a night, Goodie.”

Mason mutters something under his breath, but doesn’t respond loud enough for me to hear.

“Come on, the elevator is this way.” I walk over to him like he’s a cow I’m corralling. It takes far too long to get to the elevator and even longer to walk Mason to his room.

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