Collide (Collide, #1)(118)

After her mouth snapped shut from hanging agape, Emily spun around in the direction of the bathroom.

“No!” Olivia called out, grabbing her by the arm. “You don’t have time. You have to get in there right now, Em.” She plucked the tissue from Emily’s hand, licked it, and started wiping off the streams of mascara that were blanketing her cheeks.

Watching her intently, Gavin smirked. “Don’t forget about the lipstick that’s smeared all over her.”

Emily shot him a look.

“I’m cool, right? There’s no lipstick left on me?” he asked, his smirk turning into a full-watted smile. “I love getting kissed by women who claim that they don’t love me—makes my dick hard as a motherf*cker.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Olivia handed Emily her lipstick.

“Oh my God, Gavin, now you’re just being an *,” Emily spat, reaching for the lipstick. She quickly slid it across her lips.

“Mmm, you haven’t seen anything yet,” he chuckled, tossing his hand through his unruly black hair. “I have a feeling I’m going to break my own record tonight.” He went to walk away but turned back around. “And, if I recall correctly, I think I told you once not to bring any attention to those pretty little lips. Put the lipstick away or else I’ll drag you right back in that room and really change your f*cking mind.” He slowly ran his tongue over his mouth while his eyes shimmered with insatiable lust.

Olivia raised a surprised brow as Emily’s mouth dropped open.

Heart broken into pieces, he turned in a leisurely pivot, tucked his hands in the pocket of his jeans, and sauntered into the party room. Scanning the modestly sized space filled with thirty or so people, it didn’t take him long to lock eyes with Dillon. Gavin grunted to himself as he walked over to the bar and ordered himself a much-needed shot of tequila and a bottle of beer. He threw a $100 tip to the bartender and turned around, only to find Dillon standing behind him.

Swallowing down the need to beat the shit out of him, Gavin couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Ah, and there he is—the lucky f*cking groom.” He tossed that much-needed shot down his throat, and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Emily float into the room. “And there’s your beautiful bride,” he said, gesturing with his head in her direction.

With a suspicious look on his face, Dillon stared at him for a moment and then turned around, motioning Emily over to them. If Dillon couldn’t notice it—the way she nervously looked at them—Gavin sure as hell did. When she approached, Gavin popped the top off his beer, arched a perfect brow, and bit his lip, making sure she heard the luscious smacking noise as he pulled it through his teeth.

She glared at him.

“Are you alright?” Dillon probed. “You look upset.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice monotone, her eyes never leaving Gavin’s.

“Are you sure? You seem…off.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, she finally looked at Dillon. “Yes.”

After placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, Dillon curled his arm around her waist and turned his attention to Gavin. “What’s the deal, man?” he asked, giving him a quick once over. “You never showed up to the church, and now you come to my rehearsal dinner looking like this?”

As Gavin watched Dillon circle his thumb against Emily’s waist, seething anger, sharp as razor blades, shredded at his stomach. He flicked his eyes up in her direction. “I’m having a problem with a woman right now,” Gavin answered evenly.

“And? That doesn’t garner you showing up here looking like that.” Dillon retorted.

With her pulse quickening, Emily could see the fire surging behind Gavin’s eyes. “Dillon,” she immediately interrupted, “does it really matter what he’s dressed in? Let’s go sit down, okay?”

“Yeah, it matters. He—”

“Dillon,” she interrupted again, her tone more insistent. “I’m not kidding. Let’s just go sit.” Dillon narrowed his eyes on her, and with that, she decided to bring her tone down a notch. “I don’t feel good right now alright. Come on,” she said, grabbing for his hand.

“I’d listen to her if I were you,” Gavin smirked, draping his arm over the bar. He took a long pull from his beer, nearly finishing it. “Just a guess, of course, but if you piss her off enough, she seems like the type that might smack a guy.” Emily’s eyes widened as he ran his palm over the spot where she had slapped him. “And I bet it’d sting like a bitch, too,” he added, turning his back to them. His attention was now focused on ordering another beer to help aid in the self-inflicted hell he was putting himself through.

“What’s your problem, bro?” Dillon asked, tapping him on his shoulder.

Gavin didn’t turn around. “One, I’m not your bro, and two, I told you that I’m having a problem with a woman.”

“He’s just drunk I think,” Emily whispered against Dillon’s ear, her heart thundering in her chest. “Let’s go talk to my sister and Michael.”

After staring at the back of Gavin’s head for a few lingering seconds, Dillon looked to Emily and gave a tight nod. Knees weak with relief, Emily silently released the breath she was holding. As they turned and made their way through the party, she made eye contact with Olivia from across the room where she stood talking with Fallon. Shaking her head, Olivia looked down to the ground and then back to Emily. It was then that Emily realized that she and Gavin’s situation had put all of their friends in a very bad spot—and for this, the unrest in her stomach grew. Trying to push her guilt to the side, she plastered a smile on her face as she walked hand in hand with Dillon through the room, greeting their guests.