What Doesn't Destroy Us (The Devil's Dust #1)(50)

I look up at Bobby. “I don’t-“ I stop mid-sentence, choking on my tongue which now feels like it’s too big for my mouth.

“Run! Run to the bathroom!” he yells, pushing me in the small of my back toward the hallway. The floor is rolling like the waves at the beach and I am pretty sure I'm stomping because I can't tell if it's on its way up or on its way down. My foot somehow catches on the floor and I go tumbling forward. Bobby catches me just before my nose lands. His hands are huge and hold my frame easily as he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. The room spins even faster.

“That really didn’t help!” I choke, trying to hold back vomit.

“Don’t f*cking puke on me, damn it!” He rushes down the hall with my body bouncing on his broad shoulder. I clamp my hand over my mouth to hold the bile that's rising.

He slides me down on the floor, right in front of the toilet, just in the nick of time. I lean over and spew a mixture of lime, beer, and tequila.

“Oh, wow, that smells,” he says, pulling his shirt over his nose. I glance up at him; he truly is beautiful. His blond curls and blue eyes would make any girl swoon.

“You’re so pretty,” I pronounce before expelling more vomit.

He leans down and pulls my hair back as I continue to heave into the toilet.

“I have never held a bitch's hair while she vomited. This is really gross,” he says in disgust. “And I'm not pretty. I'm handsome, rugged and good looking.”

My fuzzy thoughts go back to Chelsea. She is so pretty and seems so secure of who she is, while I'm in here puking my guts out. Not so pretty right now.

“I am pretty!” I yell in a drunken state.

“What?” Bobby asks, laughing.

“I could look hot in leather, right? She was not hot,” I cry, vomit dribbling down my chin. I am truly a mess. Never again!

“Chelsea?” Bobby asks. I nod my head more than necessary.

“She is hot in leather and so biker, and I'm not so much. I, ugh... I hate this. I hate this feeling, I mean. No. yes.” I am not making any sense. Then I vomit in the toilet one more time, making Bobby laugh again.

“Shadow’s a f*cking tool. You would be way hotter than Chelsea in leather,” Bobby says quietly. Feeling a little better I lift my head up at Bobby.

“Really?” I ask, still insecure.

“Well, maybe not right now,” he chuckles and grabs some toilet paper to wipe my chin. All I can manage is a snort in response.

“Besides I've slept with Chelsea before and she’s not as hot as you think.” He scrunches his face in distaste. “That skank gave me crabs.” We both start laughing, even though I’m sure the situation wasn’t funny.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you that!” he hisses. I nod my head in understanding and slide my fingers across my lips as if I’m zipping them.

“Shit, how much did she have to drink?” Shadow asks, barreling into the bathroom. My sincere gaze at Bobby turns into a sinister grimace toward Shadow. I stumble up, pulling on Bobby as I try to stand. I hold onto the wall as I make my way toward the door frame where Shadow is. There is red lipstick on his neck. The sight of it makes me sick to my stomach, well, more than usual right now.

“You –“ I stumble on my drunk tongue. “You have a little slut right there,” I say, pointing toward his neck. He steps around me and peers in the mirror, confused.

“Fucking Chelsea!” he mutters under his breath.

I stumble toward the bed. It is literally only six feet from the bathroom but it feels like twenty.

I can hear Bobby and Shadow whispering heatedly at each other, but I cannot make out what they are saying. All I can focus on is the spinning room and it’s making me feel like I might vomit again.

“Make the room stop spinning!” I yell out to nobody in particular.

I look over and see Bobby leaving the room. He looks angry. Shadow comes at me from the bathroom.

“Hey, drink this,” he demands as he hands me a glass of water. I take a small sip and almost gag.

“No, drink a little more; you’ll thank me in the morning.” He tips the glass up making me take a bigger sip. I glare at him and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry, Dani,” he says sincerely, running his finger over the rim of the glass. His voice is deep and smooth, warming me with every syllable. Maybe it’s the liquor talking, but I cannot be mad at him. I didn’t like what I saw, but what was he supposed to do exactly. I feel like making him squirm just a little longer, though, so I say nothing.

“I was in a tough spot; everyone knows I mess around with Chelsea. If I told her to get lost everyone would have wondered what was up.” Hearing him confess that he messes around with that slut-cake doesn’t make me feel any better.

“Then just go be with her,” I yell at him. I'm sure it would make everything a lot easier.

“Will you stop acting like that? I don’t want her, I want you. It’s just complicated,” he whispers, his admission that he actually wants to be with me stuns me out of my hissy fit.

“You weren’t fighting her off very hard,” I whine, not sure if he can understand my words slurring together.

“Well, she’s pissed now.” He raises his eyebrows. “I told her it wasn’t happening.” My eyes shoot up and I look at him skeptically. “Like really f*cking pissed,” he says, laughing. “But, I was worried about you, I’ve been watching you all night and I knew you had more than you could handle” his voice is heavy with emotion, “and, at that point, I didn’t care what others were going to think. Fuck 'em.” I’m shocked, I didn’t think Shadow was watching me at all, I wonder if he saw me dancing with Bobby?