Foreplay (The Ivy Chronicles #1)(14)

“Can I get you another drink?” Scott asked,      following my gaze to the bar.

I snapped my attention back to the pool table.      Ryan/Bryan had Emerson in an intimate body lock, teaching her some move. I      rolled my eyes.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“How about we get out of here?” Ryan/Bryan      suggested, stepping back from the table and looking first at Emerson, then at me      and Scott. Then again at Emerson.

The four of us leaving together? I could already      see where this was headed. Emerson making out in some room with Ryan/Bryan and      me stuck alone with Scott. No thanks.

Emerson and I stared at each other, silently      communicating. She gave me the barest nod, understanding. I was ready to leave      but not with these guys. That was the good thing about Emerson. She might be in      sexual overdrive most of the time, but she never put our friendship on the back      burner.

I slid off my stool. “I gotta go to the      bathroom.”

Hopefully that would give her time to wrap things      up with her guy and swap numbers. Or not. You could never really tell with      Emerson. Sometimes I thought she was really into a guy and then she would drop      him for no apparent reason. She once dumped a guy after a third date because he      asked for a doggie bag at dinner. She claimed he was too comfortable with her if      he did that. I didn’t think she cared that this made sense only to her.      Personally, I thought she was scared to get too serious with a guy, but what did      I know? I’d only kissed one guy in my life.

I crossed the room to the narrow hall leading to      the bathrooms. They were single occupancy and there was usually a line, but not      tonight. Once inside, I dropped the little hook in place, locking the door.      Turning, I caught sight of my reflection and winced. As usual, my hair was out      of control. I tried to arrange the russet-colored waves. Maybe it was time for a      haircut. Layers or something.

Moments later, I finished washing my hands and      pushed open the thick oak door, immediately spotting Scott waiting outside. At      first I thought he was in line for the men’s room, but the way his gaze trained      on me I realized he was waiting for me.

“Hey.” He pushed off the wall.

“Hey,” I murmured, stepping out into the narrow      hall and wishing the light was better. The shadowy space made it feel too      intimate.

He moved into my path. “Why don’t you and Em come      back to our place?”

I shook my head. “I have to get up early.” I      didn’t, of course. My shift at the daycare didn’t start until eleven, but he      didn’t know that.

“Aw. C’mon.” He inched closer.

My back bumped the wall, rattling the picture      frames and license plates that decorated it. I held up my hands in front of me      as he encroached closer. “Uh, what are—”

He swept in then, planting his lips on mine. I      froze in shock. His sour tongue pushed between my lips and I gagged. I didn’t      know if he was just too into the kiss and didn’t realize I wasn’t or he didn’t      care. Or he was too drunk. Or maybe he thought I was going to have a change of      heart after another minute of this and start returning his fervor. Whatever the      case, his lips stayed firmly glued to mine, messier and sloppier than my last      kiss. Damn it. You would think things would have improved since tenth grade.

I squeezed a hand out from between us. Curling my      fingers into a fist, I beat him on the shoulder. He didn’t budge, and that’s      when I felt the first thread of panic. Even as it worked its way through me, I      told myself to stay calm. We were in a public place. What could happen that I      didn’t want to happen? Well, besides a terrible kiss that tasted of sour beer      and didn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.

I hit his shoulder harder with my free hand. He      held me so tightly I couldn’t get my other arm out from between us.

Then he was gone. Just like that.

I sagged against the wall, dimly registering that      the corner of a particularly jagged license plate scratched my neck. Funny I      hadn’t noticed that before. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as if I      could rid myself of the unwanted kiss and stepped away from the wall, focusing      on the scene before me.

Scott was on the floor, and someone stood over him,      gripping him by the front of his shirt. It took me a second to recognize the      back of my bartender—to understand that he was here,      whaling on Scott, helping me. Rescuing me yet again.