Page 6 of Fighting Fate
3
“Oh my God!”
I hiccup one more time, laughing to myself while I look in the mirror and realise how tipsy I am. This is not how I expected the night to go. I was itching to get out of here, and now I’m not sure I want the night to end.
The female toilets are busy with gaggles of girlfriends chatting excitedly about their plans for the rest of the night. Looking around the room makes me miss my girls. I dig in my bag for my phone, ready to drunk dial one of them while I perch on the edge of the sink to stabilise myself, but I come up empty.
“Damn him,” I curse down at the floor with another hiccup that makes it hard not to burst out laughing again.
Fuck, I need water.
It’s been so long since I’ve drunk like this. In fact, I can’t recall the last time. With a deep inhale, I leave the ladies’ room and head back to the guys. My head is warring with all the stupid reasons I shouldn’t go back to the table. The small nook at the back of the club has become packed with random people whose names I can’t remember and whose faces are all a blur.
Caught up in my thoughts, I stumble directly into a blue, chequered wall.
“Shit, so—” The words dry on my tongue, wilting as my heart races frenetically.
“Will—” he starts, but I cut him off with a slur. “Don’t.”
Ice chills my heated blood, and any argument I had about returning to the safety of Rory’s nook evaporates.
“Listen…” he presses, hands grasping my elbows and pulling me closer to him.
“No.”
“Come on, sweetheart,” he continues, walking us backwards down the corridor. My feet drag, heels catching in the lines of the stone floor. “It’s a misunderstanding.”
Even in the dark, he’s as handsome as ever. Silver eyes narrow on mine while his hands slip to my waist. Peter is the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. In the yellowed light, his skin glows a deep olive, and his long, blond hair frames the chiselled lines of his clean-shaven face.
For a moment, all I see is the man I thought I was in love with. He’s beautiful, and my treacherous heart skips a beat when he pulls me close. Then I remember why we’re here, like this, and I can’t seem to push him off me.
“S-stop…” I try to tell him, but the lump in my throat is growing by the second. My chest is strangling the air out of my lungs the more I fight his hold. “I said no!”
No sooner have I yelled than he’s careening into the wall beside us while I’m being pulled away.
“You got a hearing problem?” Rory’s voice bellows while his arm wraps around me and holds me to his chest.
Even if I tried, I wouldn’t be able to untangle myself from him. The scent of his aftershave envelops me as he cups my face in both hands and assesses me.
“You good, doll?” All I can do is nod.
The alcohol haze must be really thick because like this, Rory doesn’t look so bad. His rough hands don’t feel so terrible on my skin.
“When a woman says no, she means no, and it means you back the fuck off, asshole.”
Large hands trail down my neck to my shoulders, and I simply stare at him. Rory’s the antithesis of Peter. His dark hair curls into contained disarray, and his short beard looks scruffy even if it is obviously groomed.
“Jesus Christ, is this really what you’re going with now?” Peter asks with a sneer while he looks me up and down.
Ironically, I’ve never felt cheaper than I do now. There’s never been a time that I’ve felt as ridiculous and stupid as I do in this moment. When I attempt to take a step back, Rory grasps my hand in his and laces our fingers together. The action takes me by surprise—I shouldn’t like it, but I do. The feel of his rough fingers stroking over my knuckles has my heart pounding relentlessly while I stare between the two men. A spectator to their scowling match.
“Talk to her like that again, I dare you.” Rory gestures in Peter’s direction with our joined hands.
“Do you know who you’re talking to, bud?”
The air congeals in a fraction of a second, turning arctic when Rory lets out a deep breath. Looking down at the ground, he chuckles dryly before he looks up and levels Peter with a blank stare.
His poker face definitely wins because I can feel his irritation coursing from him to me. It vibrates between our palms, making my insides knot nervously.