Not wanting to push her away I go with it, but having her hands on me feels almost as weird as the redheaded guy’s hands did. I’m relieved when Ross gets back and she enthusiastically launches herself at him, locking her lips with his and kissing him passionately.

My body sparks to life a moment before a familiar arm encircles my waist. “She’s an affectionate drunk, isn’t she?” Sebastian asks.

“She’s definitely friendly,” I say, holding myself stiffly against his hold, not wanting to give in to my craving and relax into his touch.

“I’d like us to be friends,” he breathes against my ear.

My feet stop moving and I freeze to the spot. His arm falls away and I slowly spin around, narrowing my eyes the moment I’m standing in front of him. “What did you say?”

“I’d like us to be friends.” The small shrug he offers me is the thing that pushes me over the edge and before I can even think about what I’m doing, my hand is in the air and slapping against his cheek.

His eyes widen in shock and I swear there’s an audible gasp from the people around us, but I don’t stick around long enough to see how they react. Pushing my way through the crowd, I text Sammy as I go to let her know I’m leaving and ask her to text me when she gets home.

“Asshole,” I mutter, my gaze focused on the ground, trying to watch where I’m going and not trip over a tree root. “Friends, fucking friends.”

I’m so focused on not falling and angrily ranting about Sebastian that I don’t notice someone’s following me until I’m plucked off the ground, dragged off the path and pressed back against a tree.

“Calm down, Starling, it’s only me,” Sebastian says as I’m parting my lips to scream. The sound dies in my throat and the fear that has turned my blood cold all morphs into unrestrained anger.

“What the fuck are you doing? I thought you were attacking me, you fucking asshole.”

“I called your name several times, I’ve been following you since you stormed off, but you were too busy calling me an asshole to notice,” he says calmly.

“You are an asshole,” I shout into his obnoxiously beautiful face.

“I know,” he smirks.

“Stop smiling.”

“I’m sorry, I just forgot how cute you are when you’re angry.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Because it’s Friday night and there’s a party.”

“No, I mean here, now,” I clarify.

“Because you stormed off upset, I wasn’t sure how you were planning to get back to the house.”

“I hate you so much,” I snarl.

His lips twitch a moment before he leans forward and breathes against my ear. “You don’t hate me.”

My lungs stop working, my heart stills and my sex perks up in excitement at how close he is to me right now. Leaning back, he pulls his full lower lip between his teeth and watches me, waiting for something, but right this second, I have no idea what.