Page 47 of Forever and Ever

I should be tempted. After all, he’s not a bad kisser so I’m sure he’d be all right in bed. But for some reason, he’s just not doing it for me. Him or anyone else lately, it seems.

“Maybe in a little bit,” I say, pushing off the wall and turning to walk away from him.

He grabs my wrist and tugs me against his chest. “Come on, don’t be a tease.”

I roll my shoulders back and tip my chin up to face him, clenching my hands in an attempt to stop myself from breaking this guy’s nose.

“Let. Go. Of. My. Fucking. Hand,” I say, narrowing my eyes, daring him to try anything.

He lets go and backs away slowly, scoffing as he turns. Fuck him, and guys like him. I’m allowed to change my mind at any given second and not have it held against me.

I walk over to where Rome and Noah are talking with a group of people. More than a few women are laughing at something they probably don’t even find funny. They’re simply hoping if they show the right kind of interest, they’ll nail a member of Enemy Muse.

“Making friends?” Noah asks when I slide up beside him.

I look up at him, but he’s not facing me. Instead, his eyes scan the room.

“Friends? No,” I say with a shrug. “Why, jealous?”

His jaw clenches, and I know it’s a bitch thing for me to say, but, like I tell him… I’m a mess.

“Jealous?” He laughs under his breath, even if I know he’s not amused.

Shifting his body closer, he leans down so he’s right inside my bubble where no one else can hear us.

“Jealousy is for guys playing the short game, Merry.” His eyes lock on mine. “Do whatever the fuck helps you sleep at night. But make no mistake, once you do finally get over your shit and let down that fortress you’ve been building, I’ll still be here, waiting for you to open your eyes and see me.”

Noah turns and walks away, leaving me standing there feeling like he lit me on fire, and I’m stuck in the flames.

Meeting Rome’s gaze across the circle of people, he cocks an eyebrow at me, looking kind of pissed at whatever he must assume just happened between me and Noah. As if he has any room to judge. But I guess I can’t blame him. They’re friends. And I’m the woman who has somehow managed to transform Noah’s playful flirting into something that feels like an all-out war between us.

Rome takes a step toward me, but I turn away before he gets close. I know that by me staying at Noah’s house, it’s fucking with him. And I know right now I’m the worst person on the planet. I don’t need Rome to remind me.

Winding through the crowd, I seek out the nearest booze.

The nice thing about partying with rock stars is that it’s really easy to forget your problems when you want to. Whether it’s through alcohol, drugs, or other people, you can basically take your pick. Tonight, my weapon of choice is vodka, and I’m going to drink until I drown in it.

Between the tension with Noah ever since he slept in my bed the other night, and my conversation with my doctor the next morning, I’m maxed out. No matter what my dreams are, my body has other plans, and I’ll be lucky if I get through this demo before needing surgery.

Music blares through the house and people are getting wild. The dancing spills outside onto the grass, and the pool is filled. Some people are still wearing their clothes, while others have stripped down to nothing. I weave through the crowd, searching out Eloise, Adrian, Sebastian, or Cassie, but it doesn’t look like any of them are here.

“Dance with me,” someone says, tugging on my arm.

I look over my shoulder to see a chick with half black and half bleach-blonde hair grinning at me. Maybe that’s what I need right now—especially after handsy guys have been pissing me off all night—a woman to make me feel good.

“All right.”

Following her to the dance floor, she starts spinning circles around me, rubbing her hands all over. I move my hips, but that’s about it. The vodka’s hitting hard and if I’m not careful, I might fall on my face.

“What’s your name?” she asks as her fingers run the length of my spine.

“Merry,” I try to yell over the noise, but I’m not sure if she hears me.

She presses her chest against my back and wraps her hand up into my hair to pull it off my neck.

“I’m Celeste,” she says, as our bodies grind to the music.

She feels good against me—soft and sweet. Like all the things that the random guy from earlier didn’t.

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