You're to Blame(28)
Slowly, I search for the thin, black straw until it finds a home between my lips. The small drips of alcohol add a muted burn to my tongue.
“What did I tell you about straws, Charlotte?” Duke whispers from somewhere behind me. The warmth from his lips dances against my neck. He releases this warm, delectable laugh, and I shift enough to catch him receding into the packed crowd.
The lights flash and shift, casting everything in a strange hue. As I glance around, I notice for the first time how many security guards linger nearby.
A guy approaches me, and I attempt to escape. Before I can, a security guard grabs his collar and jerks him away.
This exact thing happens again before Rachel returns, balancing two drinks in her hands. “The line at the bar is horrendous.”
I take one of the drinks and nurse it for the next hour. We dance until the lights brighten. I dig out my phone to catch the time.
“Holy shit, it’s one in the morning,” I screech, giggling at how absurd that seems to me.
“This is what happens when you allow yourself to have a little fun, and you aren’t locked up in an ivory tower.” Rachel wraps her lips around her straw.
“He didn’t keep me trapped, Rachel. Don’t start this shit again.” I back away from her.
“Charlotte, you have to admit he was sort of protective.” She grabs my arm and twists me back around. Our eyes meet, and there’s a sliver of concern behind her drunken glaze. “You’re meant to make mistakes, Char. You’re eighteen years old. He should’ve allowed you to slip up every once in a while. Live a little.” Her argument is valid, which is why I don’t argue.
“I think I’ve been making enough mistakes lately,” I confess.
“Will you at least admit I’m sort of right about Jacob? I love him, but he could’ve loosened the reins a bit.” Rachel sways back and forth, licking the leftover liquid off her lips.
“Okay, so you’re a little bit right. Now can we get out of here?” I huff out a lungful of air and set my cup on the closest table. Rachel leads the charge through the crowded dance floor and past the line waiting for last call requests.
Before we reach the front, Duke rushes out of the office area, beelining for us. He wouldn’t have been watching us on the security cameras, would he? No, that’s ridiculous. I laugh until the blonde from the hospital grabs his arm. They exchange heated words and she draws her hand back as if to slap him. He sees me watching them and steps towards us, but she jumps in front of him and pulls him back. The argument between them boils to a head, but it’s their anger and has nothing to do with me.
So, why do I feel cheated of something? Who is this girl, and what exactly does she mean to Duke?
Once we are inside the apartment, Rachel prances into the kitchen and grabs two bottles of water, tossing one at me.
“Hydrate or else you’ll hate yourself in the morning,” Rachel orders. She flips the switch on the lights, leaving me in the dark. Her bedroom door slams, and my head pounds.
The couch screams for me to fall onto the soft cushions. I inch back until I’m propped on a pillow, and my shoes hit the floor with a thud. The lid drops beside them, and I guzzle down the bottle of water.
What if, when Jacob wakes up, I can’t handle the truth? Why does that girl keep showing up? Maybe she’s following Duke, but who is she? Why do they keep arguing? Why is Duke even on my mind right now? I smack my palm against my forehead, discouraged with where my mind is racing. I’m so drunk.
I welcome the darkness, wiggling beneath the blanket from the back of the couch. I close my eyes to an image of a tall figure with dark hair. The unmistakable, hot as hell ink across the forearm gives him away. I fall asleep imaging what it would be like to have the cool metal of Duke’s ring cascading over my bare skin.
And what a satisfying dream it is.
Chapter Eight
Duke
Why the hell am I trucking my ass out to the nearest drug store to purchase a stock pile of hangover remedies for a girl I’m not sleeping with?
Last night was interesting. With Thursday being my night off most weeks, I’d missed Charlotte’s first karaoke performance, so why did I drag myself to the bar? Well, because I’m a glutton for punishment, and Charlotte is the perfect form. She’s unattainable, but then again, if she knew what I knew, maybe I’d have a fighting chance.
How do I tell her, her boyfriend is a complete jackass?
The only conclusion I’ve come up with is I don’t. Who wants to win over a girl with petty tactics like that?
The whole drive to Charlotte’s apartment, the plastic bag in the passenger seat taunts me, reminding me how foolish I am.
My hand raps against the door. After no answer, I repeat the knock, and the door flings open. Rachel glares at me, her hair teased into a knot and dark shadows under her eyes.
“What the fuck do you want?” she questions, her voice raspy and strained from a night of drinking.
“I brought supplies.” I shake the bag.
A million unasked questions tumble around in her head. She steps to the side and gestures for me to enter.
“She’s asleep.” Rachel jerks the bag from my hand and rummages through, inspecting the items. “Pedialyte?”
“You’d be surprised.” I grin. “I thought I’d take her to breakfast.”