Beautiful Oblivion (The Maddox Brothers, #1)(3)

She crossed her arms, pouting. “That’s why I quit. They’re f*cking expensive.”

I stared at the burning paper and tobacco nestled between my fingers. “That is a fact my broke ass continues to make note of.”

The song switched from something everyone wanted to dance to, to a song no one wanted to dance to, and dozens of people began making their way off the dance floor. Two girls walked up to our table and traded glances.

“That’s our table,” the blonde said.

Raegan barely acknowledged them.

“Excuse me, bitch, she’s talking to you,” the brunette said, setting her beer on the table.

“Raegan,” I warned.

Raegan looked at me with a blank face, and then up at the girl with the same expression. “It was your table. Now it’s ours.”

“We were here first,” the blonde hissed.

“And now you’re not,” Raegan said. She picked up the unwelcome beer bottle and tossed it across the floor. It spilled out onto the dark, tightly stitched carpet. “Fetch.”

The brunette watched her beer slide across the floor, and then took a step toward Raegan, but her friend grabbed both of her arms. Raegan offered an unimpressed laugh, and then turned her gaze toward the dance floor. The brunette finally followed her friend to the bar.

I took a drag from my cigarette. “I thought we were going to have a good time tonight.”

“That was fun, right?”

I shook my head, stifling a smile. Raegan was a great friend, but I wouldn’t cross her. Growing up with so many boys in the house, I’d had enough fighting to last a lifetime. They didn’t baby me. If I didn’t fight back, they’d just fight dirtier until I did. And I always did.

Raegan didn’t have an excuse. She was just a scrappy bitch. “Oh, look. Megan’s here,” she said, pointing to the blue-eyed, crow-headed beauty on the dance floor. I shook my head. She was out there with Travis Maddox, basically getting screwed in front of everyone on the dance floor.

“Oh, those Maddox boys,” Raegan said.

“Yeah,” I said, downing my whiskey. “This was a bad idea. I’m not feeling clubby tonight.”

“Oh, stop.” Raegan gulped her whiskey sour and then stood. “The whine bags are still eyeing this table. I’m going to get us another round. You know the beginning of the night starts off slow.”

She took my glass and hers and left me for the bar.

I turned, seeing the girls staring at me, clearly hoping I would step away from the table. I wasn’t about to stand up. Raegan would get the table back if they tried to take it, and that would only cause trouble.

When I turned around, a boy was sitting in Raegan’s chair. At first I thought Travis had somehow made his way over, but when I realized my mistake, I smiled. Trenton Maddox was leaning toward me, his tattooed arms crossed, his elbows resting on the table across from me. He rubbed the five o’clock shadow that peppered his square jaw with his fingers, his shoulder muscles bulging through his T-shirt. He had as much stubble on his face as he did on the top of his head, except for the absence of hair from one small scar near his left temple.

“You look familiar.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? You walk all the way over here and sit down, and that’s the best you’ve got?”

He made a show of running his eyes over every part of me. “You don’t have any tattoos, that I can see. I’m guessing we haven’t met at the shop.”

“The shop?”

“The ink shop I work at.”

“You’re tattooing now?”

He smiled, a deep dimple appearing in the center of his left cheek. “I knew we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t.” I turned to watch the women on the dance floor, laughing and smiling and watching Travis and Megan vertically dry f*cking. But the second the song was over, he left and walked straight over to the blonde who claimed ownership over my table. Even though she’d seen Travis running his hands all over Megan’s sweaty skin two seconds earlier, she was grinning like an idiot, hoping she was next.

Trenton laughed once. “That’s my baby brother.”

“I wouldn’t admit it,” I said, shaking my head.

“Did we go to school together?” he asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember if you went to Eakins at any time between kindergarten through twelfth grade?”

“I did.”

Trenton’s left dimple sunk in when he grinned. “Then we know each other.”

“Not necessarily.”

Trenton laughed again. “You want a drink?”

“I have one coming.”

“You wanna dance?”

“Nope.”

A group of girls passed by, and Trenton’s eyes focused on one. “Is that Shannon from home ec? Damn,” he said, turning a one-eighty in his seat.

“Indeed it is. You should go reminisce.”

Trenton shook his head. “We reminisced in high school.”

“I remember. Pretty sure she still hates you.”

Trenton shook his head, smiled, and then, before taking another swig, said, “They always do.”

“It’s a small town. You shouldn’t have burned all of your bridges.”