He stomps away, but his friends are there, waiting, blocking his escape. One of each of their shoulders press into one of his, his chest facing away while theirs face me.

Talk about fighting something...

Beretta whispers something, and Ransom’s chin falls to his chest.

Slowly, he glances over his shoulder, and suddenly, all eyes are on me.

There’s a plea there, written along the three faces before me, but my headspace is fucked up and far from what’s necessary for my own good, so even if I know what they want from me... I don’t give it.

I climb from the hot tub, but instead of walking forward, I turn my back to them, head for my room, and quickly pull myself together. Throwing myself into my car, I pretend I don’t care if they’re still standing where I left them.

I head for the club for that last call I promised the girls, but I only make it five feet inside the door before I stop in my tracks.

Looking around, I note the enjoyment everyone seems to be reveling in.

They laugh and joke, drink and dance and why does none of it look appealing?

It should be, right? This is my world. I should like the things they like; do the things they do. Want the things they want.

My leg bounces where I stand and I try to find that sense of ease, the giddiness I’m witnessing, but it simply isn’t there.

Was it ever?

Annoyed with myself, I spin on my heels to leave, but jolt when I come face-to-face with Amy.

She tips her head, pulling her drink to her lips as her bloodshot eyes trace over every inch of me. She takes a small sip from her glass, her fingers coming up to cover her lips. “Leaving so soon, are we?”

“Hey, Amy?”

She straightens, a smirk playing at her pink lips. “Yes?”

“Fuck off.” I shove past her, thanking the bouncer at the door when he opens the rope for me to pass.

I step into the cooler air, taking a deep breath that does nothing to settle my mind.

I get to the curb, two spaces from where I parked and stop.

Leaning against my car with his head angled toward the curb and arms crossed over his chest is Ransom.

My heels click with another step forward and his head lifts, his eyes catching mine.

He pushes to his full height and I keep walking until the tips of my heels meet the toes of his sneakers.

Our eyes and bodies are aligned, and his hand lifts, pulling my hair from the high pony I put it in, in a rush.

It falls around my shoulders and his fingers bury into it.

His forehead falls to mine, and I close my eyes to get away from the strangled look in his.