Page 5 of Jig's Last Dance

His eyes drop to my legs, and I squeeze them together instinctively, tingles building in my core.

“Bro, let’s go,” Bastion interjects.

“Hm,” Jig rumbles, glancing over his shoulder to where Bastion is standing with a scowl. Jig nods, his amusement fading, and I look away when he says, “Later, baby.”

I don’t dignify his comment with an answer and exhale heavily when he stalks toward Bastion, my skin still tingling from his words; whether from anger or desire, I refuse to analyze.

Jig huddles up with Bastion before they approach some kid I recognize but have never spoken to. When they stop before him, he looks up at them with wide eyes and shakes his head vehemently.

My stomach sinks, and I mentally sigh. Jig is here on business. This is a reminder to stay the fuck away. I don’t need more shit in my life. It’s already piling up around me.

“I think he wants in your pants,” Shawn chuckles, and I shake my head, but we both pause when I hear the distinctly deep rasp of Bastion’s voice as he says to Jig, “Dude, she’s got no tits and zero game.”

Time seems to stop as I process his dick words and Jig’s laughter that follows. He says something I can’t hear and Bastion makes a crude gesture, pumping the air with his hands, leading me to believe the comment was related to a blow job

Beside me, Shawn winces, but I ignore her and my stinging cheeks as I grab the bottle from her hand.

It’s painfully quiet for a moment, and desperate to change the topic, I say, “What’s with the fallen shit?”

“Just keeping it real,” she says.

“How ‘bout you leave it fake?” I grumble.

Glancing at me sideways, she shrugs her shoulders. “Ali, you know he’s not your type. Leave the bad boys to me.”

I raise a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. You know what I mean. You’re just, I don’t know, judgy.”

“Really?” I say, narrowing my eyes. I’m not judgy, but even if I were, she knows my life better than anyone. At least what I’ve chosen to share. Regardless, I have a good reason to be.

“That’s shit,” I say, spinning on my heel and stalking away.

“Alice!” she calls, but I ignore her, glaring fiercely into the trees as I approach another group and roll up with a silent sigh.

The evening is already a shit show, and I haven’t even been here an hour.

“Hey, Alice,” Keith says with a grin, his eyes dropping to my chest.

He licks his lips, and I smile wanly before glancing back at the larger group.

Keith doesn’t have a problem with my tits. Asshole.

Inevitably, I find Jig in the crowd, and when I meet his fiery stare, I shiver. His lips are curled back in a silly grin, but his bright blue eyes shine with an emotion I can’t place. It doesn’t matter, though, because I don’t date dicks like him for a reason, and now I have two.

∞∞∞

“I’m sorry. Forgive me?” Shawn comes rolling up later with an apologetic smile, holding out another bottle of whiskey. This one looks a little more expensive than the last, but I ignore the significance and take a deep drink.

“Save some for the rest of us,” Shawn says, grabbing the bottle away with a twinkle in her eye.

“Ha,” I snort, brushing her shoulder with mine. She may have opened the book, but it’s not her fault those jerks stained the pages. It’s for the best anyway. I know my pain, and Jig Blackstone is a one-way ticket to the same damn place.

“It’s fine,” I mumble, grabbing the bottle for another drink. I may be resting on my self-righteous laurels, but at least the fucking buzz I’ve created is keeping the hurt at bay.

I’m not voluptuous like the bitch currently staring at Jig like he’s the Messiah or some shit, and I’m not gorgeous like Shawn, but I’m no fucking slouch either. So why am I letting Bastion’s cruel words bring me down?

Because I’m only human.

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