Page 30 of Lies and Other Drugs

Samuel let out a sigh. “Okay. How about we go in for thirty minutes so you can get off on whatever fucked up hatred you have for Youngblood, then we can go back to my place and work out your frustrations doing something more fun?”

I looked at Samuel, I meanreallylooked at him, trying to come up with what felt off. Maybe he was embarrassed about last night? Maybe he was jealous? Maybe he just was a flustered cluster-fuck, always looking for the next fun thing to do. I was okay with being used up. I was okay with meaningless sex. I could dish it out as much as they could. But I didn’t like people that weren’t upfront with their intentions. “Okay,” I finally said, but only because it was easier than vocalizing my reservations. I wasn’t quite ready to reveal that I didn’t trust him yet. I wanted to see where this led.

Samuel did his usual—charming the pants off the guards and distracting the entire damn world with his blinding, buoyant personality so that I could slip by in the shadows. As if on instinct, my eyes immediately searched for Young, and I felt Samuel stiffen beside me, as if he knew who had my attention and he didn’t like it. I ignored his quickly souring mood and found Young in the corner talking to an older, formally dressed gentleman and looking like he might actually be enjoying himself. He was joking with him, a bright smile barely hitting his eyes as he patted the man on the shoulder and turned to look at me.

That damn tether pulled at my gut, yanking me towards him. And to my surprise, he excused himself from the man he was talking to and headed towards us, too. “Fuck,” Samuel muttered under his breath. Young filled out the black suit he was wearing well; his broad shoulders looked like they could carry the weight of the world. His dark eyes assessed me with hunger and tension crackled with growing intensity as he closed the distance between us. “I need a drink,” Samuel whispered to no one in particular. Above us, a crystal chandelier showered the room with sweet specks of light that accentuated how handsome Young looked.

“Tav,” he greeted me before bending to kiss me on the cheek, lingering just long enough to make the greeting more than friendly. It was the first social setting I’d seen him in where he actually thrived under my attention. He didn’t shy away or look like he was playing a part. What had happened recently to make him seem so...light? “Where’s Noah?” he asked. My stomach clenched.

“Probably drunk at a bar,” I said quietly, refusing to think about the spiral of self hate I’d just sent him down.

“That’s weird. I just spoke with him. He wasverymuch sober and looking for you,” Young replied with a knowing smile. Shit. Noah didn’t give in. Not that I really wanted him to. It was just another one of our games. Maybe Iwantedhim to stop me? I really needed to hire a second therapist to help me work through the issues I had with my first.

“Oh?” I asked while avoiding Young’s gaze.

“Yep. He sounded worried. You wouldn’t happen to be up to trouble, Tav, would you?” He was way too laidback. The woman must really not be coming here, because he wasn’t acting burdened by his responsibilities or the role he was supposed to play, nor did he seem concerned by my presence.

“Well, I’ll just call Noah and have him come pick you up,” Samuel offered while pulling his phone out of his pocket.

I opened my mouth to argue, but Young interjected first. “I think I’d like to dance with Tav first. We can call Noah afterwards.” I didn’t miss the curse coming from Samuel’s mouth and the way my heart fluttered. Damn all these feelings. Damn them all to hell.

“What makes you think I want to dance with you?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest with a frown.

Ignoring Samuel, Young leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “I thought you learned last night, Tav. I don’t really give a fuck what you want.”Cocky bastard.Did he think he won our little game of sex chicken last night? I only stopped because I had a wild, random case of empathy, and Icertainlywouldn’t be letting it happen again. I set my purse on a nearby table, staring for a brief moment before directing my attention back to Young.

He placed his hand at my lower back, guiding me towards the dance floor as music played. It was a soft guitar and violin. A few other couples were dancing, but this didn’t seem like the sort of event where you could let loose and gyrate your hips like a mad woman, and it definitely wasn’t the sort of event where you wore tight little dresses and shot older women with a gun you only knew how to operate because of YouTube.

“Are we going to dance now?” I asked him with a smirk. “Are we going to pretend like we don’t hate each other for a minute?”

A new song started, and Young pulled me closer, the scent of his woodsy cologne subtle yet tempting as it washed over me. “You know you don’t hate me,” he whispered, a sense of hopefulness washing over his expression.

And then we were clumsily navigating the dance floor with Samuel’s eyes on our backs, Young’s hand on my waist, and Noah’s heartbreak on my soul. Young moved with confidence. I bet his mother made him take dancing lessons once upon a time. “You not working tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re like her sex slave, right?” I asked. Young went stiff but still guided me to the music with ease.

“I guess that's a very general way of wording it,” he replied in a curt tone before spinning me and crushing me to his chest, pressing our bodies tightly together as we moved.

“You’re a much worse dancer than William was,” he whispered in my ear, and for some reason, I hated that Young was comparing me to William right now.

“He was better than me at a lot of things. When did you even have the opportunity to dance? I thought he was your dirty little secret or your owner would get jealous,” I said. Young seemed to ignore my cruelness and just continued forcing us to sway to the soft beat of the music. I couldn’t tell you what the song was or if we were moving in time. But I could tell you every fleck of color in Nathaniel Youngblood’s chocolate eyes.

“We would dance in his living room,” he whispered. “Naked.” I initially scowled at that visual. I considered myself to be a fairly progressive individual, and picturing my brother naked grossed me out as much as it would the next girl. So instead I imagined myself. “You’re better in some ways, too,” Young added, his words a whisper over my skin. I nuzzled into his neck, not caring if it was appropriate. I wanted to ask him in what ways I was better than William, but some part of me felt like that would be playing into his trap. He didn't need my encouragement to elaborate though. "You're better at saying what you need. You're brave. You're stronger than he was."

Strength was relative. What one person viewed as strength, another could find cowardly. If my brother weren't the victim in this scenario, I'd think that Young was the courageous one for stealing that test for Samuel. If I weren’t so mad, I would have thought he was self-sacrificing and strong to keep going back to a woman he obviously resented all for a friend and a degree.

But it cost me William. So my perception of strength was his weakness.

"Just dance with me, you asshole," I pleaded, not lifting my head from his shoulder as we moved.

“I…” Young began. “I want to get to know you better, Tav. Last night was...I realized…”

I relaxed against him and sighed. “You already know everything that matters, Young. Everything else is just bullshit.”

We spun and swayed until we weren't really dancing, just walking to the music in the corner of the room, alone in our own little world while ignoring everyone else. I enjoyed Young’s company too much.

And then, he went rigid. Tight, static energy traveled through him, prickling my skin. I knew almost immediately thatshewas there. I didn't turn to look at her. Was this how my brother felt? Second best to a sick woman with an infatuation with Young?

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