Page 13 of A Little Jaded

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Page 13 of A Little Jaded

When I’m bumped from behind, I run into Drake’s back, and he turns around, glaring at whoever’s behind me. “Watch it.” His attention catches on something else, and he grins, turning his amused stare to me. “Dance with me.”

Curious about what turned his frown upside down, I start to look behind me, but he grabs my wrist and drags me toward the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the family room without asking for my permission. Most of the furnitureis pressed against the walls, leaving space in the middle of the floor for dancing, but all I do is stand here and look around. The music’s so loud it’s hard to think straight, let alone keep up with Drake’s mood swings. He hates dancing. Always has. And parties? Yeah, he’s all about a good party, thanks to his access to free alcohol, but why here? Why Lockwood Heights? Something doesn’t add up.

“Come on,” Drake urges. Grabbing my hips, he yanks me against him, grinding into my ass like he’s already had three drinks and is hoping to get laid. I can’t tell if it feels forced because I feel as stiff as a board or if it’s because he’s actually being forceful. I guess that’s what happens when the person you’re supposed to trust—to love—hurts you, shredding your trust into a billion tiny pieces, then expecting them to be glued back together after a single apology and a couple dozen roses.

Okay, a single apology is a stretch. Drake has apologized for hitting me at least a dozen times since the incident.

God, even the word incident leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

He hit me.

My boyfriendhitme.

And here I am, pretending like I can let it go. Like he deserves for me to let it go. For me to sweep it under the rug like all the shitty things he’s said and the times he’s grabbed me too roughly or shoved me out of anger. Whether it’s at me, or a shitty grade, or a bad game. It doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the one to deal with the fallout and pick up the pieces. Giving him an out. A justification.

It’s why I finally swallowed my pride, scrounged up some courage, and tried to break up with him. Why I tried to end things. And what did he do? He blocked the exit, refusing to let me go. And when I tried to scoot past, he sucker punched me, then threatened to do a lot more if I ever attempted toleave him again. And the truth is, I believe it. I don’t doubt him when he says he’ll do anything to keep me all for himself.

How did I get here?

“Come on, baby,” Drake rasps against my ear. “Loosen up.”

Loosen up? The guy expects me to be loose around him after he’s hit me? Is he really this delusional? And why is he being so pushy and acting so strange? I’m missing something. I know I am. But if I don’t play along, if I don’t dance, I’ll never figure out what it is. Closing my eyes, I let the rhythm of the song blasting through the house roll over me and force my body to move with the beat when Drake’s grasp on my waist tightens, and my eyes pop back open.

That’s when I see him. Everett. He’s standing on the side of the room, watching me. Watching Drake’s hands as they trail down my body. Watching how my hips sway and the way Drake’s lips move against my ear as if he’s whispering sweet words instead of sharp orders.

“Why are you so frigid, baby?” He grabs my waist. “Loosen up.”

It makes me feel…dirty.

Turning around, I slide my hands along Drake’s chest and loop my arms around his neck, urging him closer when all I really want to do is push him away. “I need to use the restroom.”

“Nah.”

“I’m serious, Drake,” I argue. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

He pulls back slightly, his dark gaze narrowing. “Fine. Be back in five, or I’ll come looking.”

Of course, he will.

With a nod, I step away. He lets me go, but I can feel his focus on me as I weave between the throngs of people andfind the hallway I hope leads to a bathroom. Before I can make it, a familiar face appears, and my breath stalls.

“No one?”

It’s Griffin. The guy from the arena and the ESPN specials.

My brows bunch at his question. “What?”

“You introduced yourself asno onewhen we met,” he reminds me with a smile.

“Oh. Uh, my name’s Raine.”

“Nice to see you again, Raine,” Griffin returns. “Does Ev know you’re here?”

Glancing behind me, I gulp. “Probably.”

He nods. “What are you doing here?”

“My boyfriend brought me.”




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