Page 63 of Bad For A Weekend

They collect Sara along the way, and I follow behind at a distance. Since the school shooting, crowds aren’t my thing and this place is packed.

The sheer number of people, the dim lighting, and the loud music add up to a less-than-ideal situation, even if this place is pretty cool. A DJ is playing downstairs with your typical nightclub feel, but up on the roof, a live band is playing Norteño music.

The rooftop is surrounded by tall, native plants and white lights strung over the dance floor. There’s a bar in the corner serving what I can only refer to as bucket-sized punches with fresh fruit for garnish.

I can’t fucking believe Corey signed off on this. He needs to grow a pair of balls and stand up to his daughter because she obviously can’t be trusted. The world doesn’t run on good intentions.

Thankfully, they stay where I can see them, so I stand by as the three grind on each other. I’m jealous that Sara and Ziggy have free rein to touch Baylor. It should be me she’s pressing that tight little body on, me she’s smiling at, and my body she’s running her hands down.

But I ruined that, didn’t I?

Someday she’ll thank me. When she’s married to someone who has as much to offer her as she does for him and can’t imagine a life without him, she’ll think back to that time she almost ended up with a loser bodyguard who had more mental issues than he did dollars and be grateful I walked away.

My chest aches at that thought.

I notice a couple white dudes scoping out the three of them, and I can tell they’re building the courage to make a move. One of them puffs up his chest and fixes a toothy grin on his face before walking over. If he were smart, he’d hit on Sara because Baylor isn’t in his league. As it turns out, he’s not smart and makes a move on the wrong woman.

Grabbing her hand, he pulls Baylor to him and places his hands on her hips. I don’t think there’s any chance of her complying, but when her eyes meet mine, and she flashes me that challenging look I know so well, it’s clear she’s not done punishing me.

What would I do if she were anyone else? Would I get in the middle and tell him to take a hike? Of course not. I’m not here to interfere with anyone’s life. So as much as it hurts, I stay put.

He says something into her ear that makes her smile, and she loops her hands around his neck. She doesn’t even have to get on her tiptoes since this guy is five foot nine, at best, and she has on sky-high heels. They sway to the slow song as the singer croons into the microphone with his eyes closed and his hand over his heart.

I feel the obvious heartbreak of the lyrics more than I understand them. And damn, do I feel them.

The douchebag with my woman takes Baylor’s hand and holds it to his chest. In some ways, it’s a more intimate position than they were in, especially when they turn and I see his other hand is nearly cupping her ass. I want to fucking break it. No. First, I want to punch him in the nose, kick him to the ground, then crush his hand for daring to touch her like that.

Baylor pays me no mind as the song ends and a more upbeat one begins. She turns so her ass is pressed against his front. There’s no way this dude doesn’t have a chubby from that, and knowing she’ll feel it has my rage reaching levels I didn’t know it could without my head actually bursting.

He takes the opportunity to run his hands up and down her torso, stopping just short of her breasts. He brushes her wildly pink hair off her shoulder and leans down to tell her something that I swear makes her blush. My eyes watch every subtle movement with rapt attention. I don’t even know where Sara and Ziggy are, and I honestly don’t give a shit right now.

When he places a hand on the center of her back and urges her to lean forward and shake her ass the way I’ve seen her do in cheer, I can’t take anymore. I storm over and push him away. Baylor doesn’t notice since she’s bent over, but after a second of realizing he’s not grinding, she straightens.

“What the fuck?” Dude Bro shouts, getting in my face. Or should I say my chest because I was wrong. He’s five foot six with his shoes on.

“That’s too close,” I say.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me I can’t dance with her?”

“Her fucking bodyguard.”

“Owen, stop.” Baylor puts herself between us, a hand on each of our chests.

“Tell your guard dog to back off,” he says.

“Tell me yourself.”

“Owen!” Baylor places every ounce of her rage on me. “Back off.”

“This is what you want, huh? Some asshole to make you feel good about yourself?” I goad because I’ve lost all control.

“Shut up.”

“If she’s wet when you fuck her tonight, just know it’s because my cum is still inside her tight pussy,” I roar, reaching over Baylor and jamming a finger in his chest. “Hope you aren’t expecting a virgin because I kind of ruined that for you.”

His eyes go wide, and I realize other than the music, it’s gone pretty damn quiet. Glancing around, it’s obvious my words were heard by more than the asshole in front of me.

I take a step back and am met with a sight I’ll never forgive myself for. Baylor’s eyes glisten with tears, her lower lip trembling, and her creamy skin blotchy and red.

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