The Complete Arrogant Series(40)

“Hey, slow down,” Jensen says, counting the empty beer bottles that line the table before us. “I’m not here to babysit you tonight.”

I wave my hand in his face, though my depth perception is way off. I end up sliding my fingers across his mouth. His lips are warm against the pads of my fingers, and my belly zings as I think about how they might taste.

But he doesn’t want me. He made that abundantly clear. And things have been good between us ever since we decided to be friends.

“You’re not as fun as I thought you’d be in this setting.” I’m slurring my words, though they’re clear as a bell in my head. “You just sit there like a… like a bump on a log.”

I giggle like I’ve just said the funniest thing in the whole entire world. Buzzing Waverly is much more carefree than her sober counterpart.

“Waverly.” He cocks his head at me, grabbing my wrist with his hand.

“Oh, no,” I laugh. “You better let go of me. I’m not in control.”

He cracks a sarcastic half-smile and releases my wrist. “Just cool it, okay? We’re underage. Last thing we want is to attract any attention. Liberty’s doing us a solid here.”

“I have to use the ladies’ room.” I stand up way too fast, toppling over into his lap, my behind in the air.

My father would be so proud right now.

“Let me walk you.” He helps me up and rises beside me.

I shake my head, my hair falling into my face and sticking to my forehead. The bar feels like a sauna now or maybe it’s just me. “No. I’ll be right back.”

I push through a sea of mostly college-aged people and find the line for the bathroom. The one bathroom door has a man symbol next to a woman symbol, and there are both guys and girls waiting in line.

I sigh, counting ahead to figure out where I fall in line. I’m sixth. It might be a while. Glancing around the room, I watch a rail-thin woman make out with a big, bearded guy. I listen to the girl in front of me yell into her phone, telling her babysitter she’ll be late tonight. The guy behind me has bloodshot eyes and a droopy face. I think he’s on something. I’m in a strange, new land, and I’m still learning the culture, but I kind of like it.

Autonomy is the greatest feeling on earth. Mix that together with a little rebellion and a taste of inhibition, and I’m scaling heights I never knew existed.

I bob my head to the music. It’s deep but catchy, like the voice of a sad man singing happy songs. Liberty’s boyfriend is ridiculously talented.

“Excuse me, miss.” I spin around, finding myself faced with a broad-shouldered man donning a black t-shirt with SECURITY written across it. “I’m going to need to see your ID.”





CHAPTER 17




Jensen

“You’re lucky your friends are covering for your punk asses,” the owner of the bar scolds us outside in the alley. His finger is pointed at my chest, inches away from poking me. He’s lucky he doesn’t. “You’re eighteen-goddamned-years old. You should be at home, in bed. You’re lucky I don’t call your parents.”

We stand there and take it, waiting for him to calm down so we can leave. I’ve only had one beer, and it’s been well over an hour, so I should be okay to drive us home.

“Get out of here.” The owner waves us away. “And take care of her. She’s drunk off her ass.”

He would be correct. Waverly is sloppy drunk from the three beers she chugged on an empty stomach. That, and it’s her first time drinking. She has zero tolerance. I should’ve kept a closer eye on her.

I slip her arm around my shoulder and wrap my arm around her back, leading her to my truck.

“Sorry I ruined our night,” she sighs.

“You didn’t ruin anything. You just happen to look young and they happened to notice you.”

“I had fun celebrating,” she says when we reach the truck. I fish for my keys as she leans against it, staring at me like she’s lost in thought. “Thanks for celebrating with me. It means a lot.”

I slip my key into the passenger door and yank it open for her like her own personal coachman. “Hop on in. Let’s get you home.”

She doesn’t move. “I mean it, Jensen. Sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually gives a darn about me.”

I smile. Even when she’s drunk, she can’t bring herself to swear. Her hand lifts to my face, her fingertips tracing my jaw as her eyes narrow and attempt to focus on my mouth.

“That’s not true.”

“The way you look at me.” She exhales her words. “It’s different. No one else looks at me the way you do.”