Page 45 of Organized Chaos
Two bottles of vodka, chasers, and glasses were brought to our table, although I ignored the hostess’ polite attempt to make me a drink. Gabby’s parents had allowed us boundless freedom on this trip since all the girls—minus me—were eighteen. Their one condition was that I didn’t drink hard liquor (per Raven’s instructions). However, wine, if consumed responsibly, had been approved.
Gabby apparently didn’t heed her parents’ rules and grabbed one of the vodka bottles. “Okay. We are doing shots. The goal tonight is to finally seeyoudrunk.”
No way. “I’m good for now.”
“You can’t say no. It’s my birthday.”
I quickly stood from my seat. “I have to use the bathroom. Maybe after I come back?” Hopefully, she’d forget about it by then. “Do you know where the restrooms are?”
“It’s actually out the way we came, in the hotel lobby.”
“Be right back.” I scurried away before she could pour the dreaded shots. Plus, I needed a break from the other girls.
On second thought, perhaps I should call it a night altogether rather than force Gabby into the role of a peacemaker on her birthday. I was leaving tomorrow while the rest were staying behind. My absence might as well start now.
Exiting the club, I looked for the restrooms... and stumbled in my heels.
Mussed up inky black hair. Strong set jaw. The palest blue eyes, almost the color of crystals. Couple of sexy tattoos on the outskirts of his index finger. Tasteful enough to give him an edge but small enough to not interfere with his suave attitude.
God! He was so hot.
Brandon Fucking Cooper.
Yes. It was cliché to still be stuck on the same man. If Milo knew of my feelings, he’d have my head. On top of being my brother’s business partner and best friend, he was also ten years older than me. He was even older than Milo by a year and a half.
But it was so hard to concentrate on those facts when Brandon was the most perfect specimen to grace this earth. Keeping with his usual air of defiance, he wore a black button-down shirt and slacks instead of a suit like everyone else. And per usual, he was surrounded by a bevy of admirers, further stabbing me deep in my fragile heart.
My glare was steadfast on one particularly pushy girl—another techy entrepreneur whom I recognized from Milo’s social circle. She was semi-obsessed with Brandon, much like me. Through my past “stalking,” I was aware that Brandon had met her multiple times, though I very much doubted that he so much as recognized her.
God, why did I like him so damn much? He was such a narcissist.
I snorted as she did everything in her power to get his attention. My glower on her was so thick that, for the first time, I fucked up.
I failed to notice that Brandon’s attention was locked on me.
The mien on his face left me stumped. Was it possible that I had caughthisattention?
Perhaps he was simply surprised by this dolled-up version of me. Doubt he would have spared me a second glance if I walked in au natural. Then an unseeing thought crossed my mind.
Brandon Cooper was Drinking. Me. Up.
He pried off the girls fawning over him. Hundreds of scenarios ran through my mind as he made his way over.
Admittedly, I was surprised to find him in the lobby bar instead of the nightclub. During these events, Milo and Brandon generally took potential investors out for a good time.
Before Brandon could walk around the circular bar so I could inquire about it, a douchebag-type thing intruded on our staring competition.
"Hello there.”
Brandon stopped in his tracks.
No,I almost shouted, barely repressing my glare at the idiot who ruined the best moment of my life. Brandon Cooper was about to approachme,and I so desperately wanted to know what he had to say.
Brandon signaled the bartender for a drink. His gaze was now on this fool, attempting to decipher if he was with me.
"May I buy you a drink?"
My God, was this man still here? "I'm alright. Thank you."
