Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #4)(24)

Asshole.

I take a deep breath and walk to the bar, ignoring Chloe and Mac who are relaxing with drinks on a set of barstools.

Chloe watches me as I slip behind the counter instead of giving the orders to the grunge dude taking them.

I quickly pour the stupid champagne but leave some room and top it off with a little less than a double shot of gin. They’ll never know, and they won’t dare complain after their girl got kicked out for thinking her wants mattered.

Let’s see how well they can perform later when they can’t even walk.

Brayshaws don’t do sloppy.

Chloe chuckles, and then a stir stick is pushed into my line of sight.

I eye her a moment, then take it and give a light swirl, tossing it to the granite top after. I lock my fingers around the edges to support my weight, holding her gaze.

She leans over, grabs the gin and signals for the guy, who drops an empty glass in front of her.

Mac eyes us both as she fills it to the brim, the contents spilling onto her fingers as she slides it my way. “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re on socialite duty, but something tells me you can handle your liquor, and that you might need that.” She doesn’t make me ask, which is good because I wouldn’t have, and offers her explanation anyway. “The chick in there, the one with the pink shorts, is Amber, and she’s wanted Captain since sixth grade. This is her first invite.”

I tap my fingertips along the rim of the glass then lift it, allowing the sweet yet piney liquid to warm my throat. I look to Chloe. “Why are you telling me this?”

She grins at the empty glass a moment, before looking to me.

“Because I know a scorned Brayshaw when I see one. Clearly you fucked up, I can see it, even though it’s not common knowledge to others how bad he wants to screw you… in both ways.” She places her elbows on the countertop, dropping her chin atop her interlocked fingers. “And because she’s a competitive gymnast, and you’re just… you.”

“You couldn’t help it, could you?”

She shrugs, hiding her grin in her drink as I hold mine back.

Mac chuckles, shaking his head, and offers to help me carry the drinks, but I ignore him and walk to the end of the bar, squaring my shoulders before I slip behind the black curtain.

The second I’m on the other side of the expensive material, strong, fluorescent eyes demand mine and hold, but I force my gaze over his shoulder, and I’m met with my own reflection across the room.

Mirrors all around.

There are no ‘walls’ to be seen—only yourself and everything surrounding you, and more than one of each.

Soft, tranquil music comes from every direction—how it’s not heard outside this room, I don’t know.

A black velvet curved couch makes up all edges, and it takes me a second to realize I’m raised higher than the seating area, higher than the others in the room.

A stage.

I take the three smalls steps to the floor level, a sparkly black tile, maybe even marble. There are a few end tables here and there, ice buckets sitting atop them.

Royce reaches out, taking the two drinks closest to him without a word, so I move one from my right over to my left, now holding a flute in each hand.

Finally, I look to Captain again, his stare still stuck on me.

It takes some masking, but I don’t acknowledge the two girls who have planted themselves at his sides, at least not until they turn to see what’s stolen his attention.

Both stick their hands out, demanding with actions instead of words like bratty children that their drinks be brought within reach.

Captain tips his head back the slightest bit, waiting, so I walk closer, surprising them all when I use the space between Captain’s open legs as my delivery location.

They wouldn’t notice, and I’m betting it was completely subconscious, but his shoulders lift off the cushion the teeniest, tiniest bit, bringing him a fraction of a hair closer.

To me.

My chest is in his reach and positioned right about his line of sight. Sure, my tits don’t spill from my bra and my top is tucked tight into my jeans, but I’ve got shape and it’s a shape he happens to like.

He inhales deeply, holding his breath as I lift my arms out at my sides, my chest pushing higher as I do, and slowly the girls grab their drinks.

Captain’s gaze quickly drops only to come right back as fast.

In my peripheral, the girls’ heads move from Captain to me, their pretty little minds spinning, I’m sure.

My focus falls to Captain’s mouth when his tongue sneaks out, licking across his full bottom lip, but he catches himself and hastily pulls it back in. The thick veins of his neck throb against his golden skin as his eyes angrily jerk left. To the girl Chloe mentioned, the one with the heavy lip gloss who wants what’s not free for the taking.

She leans into him, speaking in a low, seductive tone that makes me want to vomit. “This is my favorite champagne. I can’t believe you have it stocked.”

I scoff and her caked over lip coils, her beady eyes slicing to mine. She takes a second, making a public show of assessing me and deciding I’m less than she.

“What.” She pushes her lips out, her free hand curling over Captain’s shoulder as she tucks herself closer. “Jealous, group home girl?”

I pop a shoulder, letting my hands fall to my sides, the move has my fingertips skating across Captain’s jeans. “Not unless you’ve got a box of dye hidden in your vag.”