don’t know why he bothers me so much, but he does. “I’m going to dance. Brooke, Sal, you comin’?”
Sal looks at her drink with an expression of sorrow then puts it down. I do the same—sans the sorrow—and we snake our way through the crowd to an open spot on the dance floor, soon finding ourselves in instant hell.
Sweaty bodies. Unfamiliar sweaty bodies. Everywhere. All encroaching my personal space. There’s nothing worse. One guy even has the audacity to place his sweaty hands on my hips.
“Hey!” I swipe them away and move back, ready for fight or flight, when he’s suddenly yanked away.
Relief floods me for a second when Will stands in his place, and I’m about to thank him, when he has the audacity to place his hands on my hips too.
I look at them—huge bear-like paws on my silk dress—then look back up at him. “Do you mind?”
He chuckles. “So you’d rather dance with that guy?”
Placing my hands over his, I pry them from my body. “I’d rather dance with my friends.”
Turning my back to him, I present my cold shoulder, which heats when his beard tickles the skin at my neck, his breath warm against my ear as he murmurs, “Can I be your friend, Labia? I’d really like to be your friend.”
His hands once again snake onto my hips, and for a split second, I want them to stay there… until sense slaps me across the cheek and I spin to face him, our eyes locked, our faces mere centimetres apart. He’s leaning down, his gigantic frame dwarfing me and creating a shield from anyone else standing close.
Strangely enough, I feel safe but… claustrophobic.
“No, you cannot be my friend!” I shove him again. “And my name is not Labia!”
Not knowing what else to do, I growl and storm away.
The next couple of hours are spent hiding from and avoiding Will. He’s like a sniffer dog, and I’m the cocaine. Every time the girls and I change levels, he’s not far behind. I even have to slip into the ladies’ toilet just to throw him off his scent. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t seem to understand I’m not interested in his company. I’m sure he’s nice, somewhere underneath his offensive tongue, and I mean no offense—or maybe I do—but I’m just over stupid men and their stupid games.
Rounding the corner after leaving the toilet, I stop in my tracks when he pushes off from the wall and takes a step toward me.
“Don’t come any closer,” I say, holding my hand out like a stop sign.
My palm slams into his rock-hard chest, and I stumble backward, my shoulders hitting the passage wall behind me, his arms caging me in.
“What are you doing?” I ask, barely able to breathe.
His eyes narrow. “Firstly, I’m not playing chasey with you any longer—”
“Chasey? I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Secondly, I’m sorry for calling you Labia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Oh.” This second one catches me by surprise. “I… I—”
“And, thirdly, you may want to help me stop Carly from doing something she’ll regret.”
I stare at his lips, the bridge of his nose, and finally his eyes, grey-blue like an overcast sky. Soft and kind, they contradict the rest of his burly exterior. They’re not as dark as I first thought; they’re rather lovely, actually.
“Elizabeth?”
I blink. “What?”
“Carly… she’s dancing with a dick, a dick who’s not Derek.”
“Damn her.” Closing my eyes momentarily, I sigh then quickly duck under his arm to free myself from his prison. “Where?”
He nods toward the dance floor.
“Right.” I gesture to his pocket, where I assume he keeps his phone. “Ring Derek and tell him.”
“You shittin’ me?” He steps back, runs his hands through his hair, and laughs.
My eyes magnetise to his biceps once again, shirt-cuffs straining against the expansion of his muscles. He must lift very heavy weights or pull very large cars, or—
He flexes them again.
“Am I what?” I shake my head, diverting my gaze back to his eyes, which really aren’t less distracting. “No! I’m… I’m not shittin’ you. Call him. Tell him exactly what she’s doing. He needs to know.”
“He’s gonna lose his shit.”
“Good. He should. That’s what she needs right now.”
His eyebrows hitch, but he takes out his phone and dials Derek. “Hey, mate. How’s things in Sydney?”
I look out at the dance floor, trying to pinpoint Carly, but my eyes keep making their way back to Will, following his every step as he paces the hallway beside me, phone to