Page 5 of Sunflowers and Surrender
My blood begins to boil as I watch her run her fingers through Xane’s hair as they dance entirely too close. She finally takes a step away as Grace approaches with another clear bottle of something that doesn’t look like soda.How many has she had?
She’s not dressed for a nightclub like Ainsley, but instead, she’s wearing a thin cotton top that caresses her tits in a way I don’t think I’ve noticed before.And trust me, I’ve noticed. One sleeve is draped precariously down her shoulder, exposing her bra’s thin black strap and creamy skin. My fingers tingle with the desire to stroke her soft flesh before returning her shirt where it belongs.
But that ass. It’s as if her jeans were painted onto her delicious perky backside. It’s the stuff dreams are made of. And what’s more, I’m sure she has no idea how alluring she is. Unlike Ainsley, who constantly treats her appearance like a tryout for a reality show, Tuesday remains blissfully unaware. If she is, she certainly doesn’t let it show.
Xane’s hands drop down to grip the curvy globes of her ass, and I see red. Pulling out my phone, I decide to let her know that while her brother is away, I’ve reported for duty.
Alex
10:20 p.m.
Alex: What do you think you’re doing?
As if on cue, Tuesday reaches behind her and retrieves her phone from her back pocket. Her head quickly rotates from side to side as she attempts to pinpoint my location.
10:24 p.m.
Sunny T: I’m dancing.
10:28 p.m.
Alex: That’s not dancing. If he was any closer, he’d be inside you.
10:29 p.m.
Alex: Back away from the asshole, T!
I can almost feel her exasperated groan reverberate from across the room and expect her to step back, only to see her slide her phone into her back pocket and accept a drink from the fucktard. An open drink in a solo cup, no less. She knows better than that. She must’ve had too many already.
Making my way to where they’re standing because that’s sure as hell not dancing, I’m interrupted by Ainsley and some random chick she’s brought with her.
“Alex, babe, this is Cassandra. She wanted to meet you,” Ainsley says, already sounding a little tipsy. How long have I been standing here glowering at Tues?
“Hey,” I greet, not bothering to make eye contact. I’m not letting Tuesday out of my sight. Instant relief washes over me when I watch her hand off her red solo cup to Grace. She gives Tuesday a knowing glance, and I thank God her friend is looking out for her. This should have me feeling more relaxed, except Xane’s fucking hands are back on her ass. While I appreciate Grace’s help, looking out for Tuesday is clearly a two-person job.
“Babe. Dance with us,” Ainsley whines.
Us? Normally, the thought of being sandwiched between two women would sound appealing. But if Ainsley is offering, it’s purely for attention. What’s more, I have a Defcon three situation happening over here.
“Not right now, Ainsley.” I grab my phone, planning to send a final message to Tuesday before physically removing Xane’s body from hers. Using the text as an excuse, I tell Ainsley, “I was supposed to message Ricky earlier and forgot.”
“Fine.” She pouts. “We’ll just find someone else to dance with.”
I’m tempted to thank Ainsley for her petty threat, but I don’t want to antagonize her. My eyes drift back to Tuesday just in time to see Xane squat down, then grind his body into hers on his ascent.
For fuck’s sake.
10:40 p.m.
Alex: Last chance, or you’ll have his murder on your hands.
Standing with my legs spread and arms crossed over my chest in a determined stance, I wait. And wait. She suddenly throws her head back in laughter, her dark cinnamon tresses spilling down her back just as that dickhead leans forward and places his fucking mouth on her neck.
That’s it!
Storming over to where they’re standing, I don’t even try to hide my ire. I see Grace take a step back out of the corner of my eye.
“I think we’re done here.”
