Page 8 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
Nothing comes out. I stop and think, searching my brain forsomething.But either this second drink is getting to me or I’ve just had an aneurysm, because I can’t think ofanything.
Abby purses her lips as she leans back against the high top where we’re standing. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.”
“I’m just…on the spot,” I say, shifting my weight. “You know I can’t think on demand.” I pout as I sip my drink. It tastes like a cross of blue raspberry and cotton candy, which shouldn’t be as sweet or as good as it sounds.
“Mhmm…” Abby sips her drink just as Zayne pushes off the table and grabs my hand.
“Come on, sweetheart, the night is young and so is my patience.”
Abby rolls her eyes as I stumble toward Zayne.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Abigail,” he says. “You two might have come here to drink your woes away, but I came hereto dance.” He pulls me into his arms and rocks his hips as he settles his hand on my waist. “Now, please…” Zayne purrs, using his hands to shake my hips. “Let us dance.”
I can’t deny the innocent, sweet look in his eye. “Fine,” I say in between sips of my drink. “One dance.”
He grins just as the beginning of “Backstreet’s Back”by the Backstreet Boys comes on and Abby squeals, “Oh my God! I love this song!”
And before I know it, I’m being whisked to the dance floor. I drain my drink quickly, shoving it onto an open table as we pass by.
The place is packed, even for a Thursday night. Though there’s plenty of room at the bar and the tables aren’t full, the crowd on the dance floor is thick and all the VIP areas are full. I glance around at all the velvet ropes, the bright lights casting a glow on their patrons.
Zayne and Abby sing loudly as Zayne bops between settling his hands on my hips and moving me to the beat and doing the same with Abby, even stopping to twirl us once in a while.
With or without alcohol, Zayne Cortland is always a damn riot, and before I know it, I’m dancing and smiling along to the beat as well.
“There she is!” Zayne says, spinning me like a damn ballerina. “There’s the spectacular Eleanor Brighton I know.”
I blush at his kind words as he heads to spin Abby.
“Hey, you want to grab us a refill?” Abby asks as she slides her hands around Zayne’s neck. If I didn’t know he was gay, honestly I would never think he was. Especially because he’s always so affectionate. But Abby and I both know it’s just how he is. Zayne’s a flirt, and though he prefers big, beefybears, his default setting is to be flirty with just about anyone.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it sometimes, myself. Not because I find him attractive or anything, just…sometimes it’s nice to be praised and complimented, and Zayne definitely knows how to layer on the compliments and make you feel confident.
Especially when you don’t feel that way yourself.
“Sure,” I say with a grin as Abby shoves a twenty at me.
“Vodka Red Bull and?—”
“Shirley Templeextracherries,” Zayne says, sticking his tongue out as Abby laughs, her hold on his neck only tightening. She looks at him with a grin that I wish I could capture, because most of the time she and Zayne are pushing each other’s buttons and not…doing whatever it is they’re doing now.
Acting almost happy.
Like acouple.
I shake my head. Must be the alcohol getting to me. Maybe I should cool it…
“Don’t even think about it.” Abby points at me. “You get yourself anotherHighline Hitter.”
I purse my lips and nod, knowing it’s best not to argue. I can always change my mind or refuse to order when I get to the bar, but…
Ididsay I wanted to come here to have fun. Have some drinks andforgetabout Brett and his betrayal. I can’t very well forget about that without a little liquid help, and I know that. The two drinks I’ve had so far definitely are making me feel relaxed, if not a little looser than usual.
I can’t remember the last time I got drunk. Probably before I met Brett.
Seeing as Bret and I didn’t spend that much time going out or getting into the Denton, Virginia nightlife, we rarely went outdrinking.Most of the time if we did drink—at all—it was for an event or something he had to appear at.
Though we never announced our relationship officially, most of the management and his coach knew we were indeed together. The PR team refused to make an official statement, saying theydidn’t want to alienate their viewers and it would be more beneficial for the both of us if my identity as his girlfriend was hidden.
