Bully(93)

“Tate, are you okay?” Jared’s eyes looked concerned.

“Yeah, I need a drink.” I’d be damned if I was going to be trapped by my past. My body was at DEFCON 1 right now, and I just wanted to enjoy this party.

Once we made it to the kitchen, complete with a make-shift bar just like last time, Madoc set to work making us drinks. Jared declined, since he was driving, and I was proud of him for being responsible. Madoc was simply happy he had a DD.

Snatching the red cup out of Madoc’s hand, I swallowed the burning liquid mixed with Coke as fast as I could. With each gulp, the alcohol stung worse and the bitter taste had me wishing for a cookie or a Jolly Rancher or anything sweet. Successfully consuming every last drop, I swung the cup into the sink and coughed into my hand as Madoc laughed at me.

“Aw, she’s about as red as a tomato,” he joked to Jared.

“Piss off,” I mumbled.

Jared wrapped a hand around my waist and pulled me close, kissing my hair. Closing my eyes, I let the alcohol heat up my blood, relaxing my muscles.

“Hey, guys.” K.C. bounced into the kitchen, pulling Liam behind her. He nodded to Madoc and Jared, clearly not happy with Jared and K.C. briefly dating. Liam cheated, but he was acting upset because K.C. spent a couple of dates with another guy.

Get over it.

“What are we drinking?” she asked.

“Well, I just had a little liquid courage, so I’m good for now.” My voice was still raspy from the rush of liquor.

While she and the others set to work making their concoctions, Jared bent down to my ear. “Come with me.”

Goosebumps spread across my arms as his breath tickled my ear. He took my hand, and I let him guide me out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor of the house.

The Beckman place was huge, which was why parties here were so popular. Jared’s and my houses were happy mediums, but Tori and Bryan Beckman enjoyed a lush and spacious two-level home with a finished basement and fully landscaped backyard that was big enough for a modest golf course. This house probably boasted seven or eight bedrooms.

And it looked like Jared was taking me to one.

Oh, my.

He knocked on a door to make sure the room was empty and then led us inside.

As soon as the door was closed behind us, he backed me up against it, causing me to grab his upper arms for support. I gasped from the surprise and met his kiss when his lips crushed down on mine. His hand went down to my ass, and he pulled me up to meet his hips. I ripped my mouth away from him to catch my breath as he dipped his head to my neck.

“God, Tate. Your dress should be burned.” His mouth was hot on my ear as he started sucking the lobe.

“Why?” I asked, the desire burning down below making it almost too hard to concentrate.

He laughed against my neck. “Every fucking guy has been looking at you tonight. I’m going to get arrested.”

Taking his head in my hands, I forced his eyes to meet mine as our noses touched. “I’m yours. It’s always been you.” My promise hung in the air while he gazed down at me, his chocolate eyes full of desire.

“Come here.” He led me to the center of the large bedroom, which looked to be a guest room by the absence of photographs or other personal paraphernalia.

Jared took out his phone and pushed a few buttons before Seether’s Broken started playing. Setting the phone on the chest of drawers, propped up by its kickstand, he walked back over and took me in his arms as I wrapped mine around his neck. Slowly, we started moving together to the music in our very first slow dance.

“I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you tonight.” His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, and there was regret in his voice. “I don’t like doing things like that in public. It feels too personal, I guess.”

“I don’t want you to change who you are,” I told him. “But I might like to dance with you some time or hold your hand.”

He pulled me closer in a hug and wrapped his arms around my back like a steel band. “I’ll try, Tate. Yesterday is gone. I know that. I want that comfort we used to have back.”

I tipped my head up further to meet his eyes as we continued to sway to the music. “Your tattoo—Yesterday lasts forever, Tomorrow comes never—that’s what it says. What does it mean?” I’d finally been able to read the script on the side of his torso one morning this week while he’d been sleeping.

His hand skimmed down my hair. “Just that I was living in the past. What happened with my father, what happened with you, I could never get over the anger. Yesterday kept following me. And tomorrow, the new day, never seemed to come.”

Until me, he’d written on the note.