Page 21 of The Hallows Queen

Because on top of my dad dying of cancer, having to move back to my hometown, and losing all sense of normalcy I’ve built over the last four years, I’m also dreading my dream job.

I’m self-aware enough to know that the feeling will pass, but why not get sloppy wasted and fucked by someone while I’m downward spiraling?

I’m on my third drink of the night, my limbs nice and light from the alcohol, and rolling my hips against some tall, dark, and handsome guy at Amethyst.

He keeps trying to slip his hands under my skirt, as if I’m drunk enough to get fingerbanged on the dancefloor, and it’s starting to piss me off.

Listen, I’m not one to judge. You want to get finger-fucked on the dancefloor, by all means, do it. I’ve participated in my share of exhibitionist shit, but I’m not feeling it tonight. This random guy is taking my downward spiral and making it feel gross. Because, as we all know, men ruin everything.

I would like to get shitfaced drunk, take an Uber back to my apartment with this man, and ride him until I have to change the sheets. I’m a simple girl.

But I want to dance for a bit first, get all sweaty and needy, so the sex is really fucking good, and have at least six drinks to take my confidence up ten notches.

Katie is dancing with his friend, and he doesn’t seem to be trying to finger her on the dance floor, which makes me jealous.

When Tall, Dark, and Handsome reaches for my panties for a fourth time, I almost punch him. He’s making me want to just go home and spend the night with my vibrator instead.

Laying my hand atop his, I give him my best smile, and his brows pull down in confusion.

With irritation sizzling through my veins, I lean into him and shout my lie over the music. “I’m going to go to the ladies’ room.”

He nods, and I turn to head for the storage closet I stumbled upon last night. I need a moment of peace, some sort of solace to get my groove back.

The back hallway is empty, so I don’t hesitate to push through the door of the storage room. I stop in my tracks when I find someone kneeled over the table on the other side of the room, sniffing a powder from the surface.

When he hears me, he turns to look up at me.

You wanna dance with me, beautiful?

“You’vegotto be kidding me,” I groan, taking a step farther into the closet. “Do youlivein here?”

He wipes the back of his hand over his nose, tosses the rolled-up bill in his hand onto the table, and laughs. “No.”

“Are you following me, then?” I snip, narrowing my gaze.

His plump lips are still curved into a smile, and he raises a brow. “You’re the one that keeps walking in onme.” He waves a hand at the door. “Do you mind?”

Without thinking, I turn and close the door behind me, then look at him again. He drops his head to the side and laughs. “I meant for you to leave.”

I roll my eyes, moving next to the door and letting my back slide down the wall until my ass hits the floor. Waving my hands dismissively, I stare off in the opposite direction. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

I’m extremely uncomfortable, realizing how bizarre the situation I put myself into is, but the thought of going back to the dance floor sounds worse right now. I needed a minute to myself, so I’m going to do just that.

I tuck my hair behind my ears, rolling my shoulders and looking over at the guy across the room again. He isn’t kneeling anymore, instead sitting flat on his ass and staring at me.

“What?!” I snap.

He laughs, his shoulders and chest shaking. “What are you doing?”

His dark eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles, and it’s so attractive, I want to crawl across the room and press my fingertips to his face.

That must be the alcohol.

I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I just needed a moment alone.”

“Well, you aren’t alone,” he retorts, and I give him a dirty look.

“Well, if you’d shut up, I could pretend I was.”

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