Doc (Ruthless Kings MC #7) - K.L. Savage Page 0,74

and throw my hair in a messy bun, and then I drop my hands to my thighs and blow out a breath. “This is as good as it’s going to get. I’m going to the party, having one drink, and leaving.” My voice is stern while I discipline the haunted girl in the mirror.

“Better be glad I love you, Brody,” I say under my breath as I grab my black cross-body purse, sling it over my shoulder, and walk out of the door. Another reason I can’t say no to Brody is because he only lives in the building up on the hill which is a short walk for me. Saying no is just crappy on my end.

I lock my door and inhale the night, lingering cigarette smoke and the laughter of people from downstairs having their own party along with the beat of music vibrating the walls. I stuff my keys in my purse and make my way down the stairs. My hand grabs the rail as I prance down the steps in my new red flats, not heels because I can’t walk in heels, and yet I still feel pretty.

I wince when I pass the scuff mark on the wall where Badge and Bullseye carried my couch up the steps and slammed it against the cheap siding.

Yep, that’s my fault. I said right, but they went their right which was my left and everything turned into a shit show. Badge pulled a muscle in his back, and Bullseye got hit in the head with the back of the couch.

To say I felt horrible was an understatement.

I get to the bottom of the steps, and a cloud of weed hits me in the face. In between the bushes in front of me is a group of men and women passing a joint, laughing. I cough, waving the smoke from my face. How can people smoke that stuff? Reeks of skunk, yuck.

Passing the cacti lining the sidewalk, I follow the path up the hill. My thighs burn already. I make a mental note to work out more. I’m ready to take a break. “Damn,” I hiss when a cramp in my side starts to ache.

I knew I should’ve stayed on the couch. I fucking knew it.

I glance up to the sky and think about the beer waiting for me and then, for some damn reason, I think of Doc.

The first man to ever offer me a drink at Ruthless. Our fingers brushed and something told me to stay away, but only because I wanted to get closer. I felt something with him I wasn’t ready for. Now when we see each other, we give each other a wide berth, yet circle each other like sharks that are ready to attack.

A relationship that will never bloom, never happen, never do anything other than go in circles. Literally.

I get to the top of the hill and wipe the sweat off my forehead. I climb up the first set of steps to Brody’s. I bet all the other girls there are in mini-skirts with their boobs hanging out of their tops.

The low bass of the music shakes the steps as I climb them. The green painted door is open, and a few girls come out, laughing and tripping over their own feet from how drunk they are.

Yeah, one drink. This is not my scene.

I stop at the doorway and look inside with nervous eyes. My stomach flips and not in a good way. My instincts are telling me to run, but I hate to be the kind of person to go back on their word, especially for my best friend.

The lights are off except for a few Christmas lights strung around the rooms. Beer pong tables are set up, people are playing strip poker in one corner, and there’s a couple making out on the kitchen table.

It smells like beer and cheap perfume.

And I don’t feel like having a headache tomorrow.

I turn around on my new flats, but I hear my name being called from behind me. “Joanna! Joanna, you came,” Brody says with happiness and relief. I spin to tell him I’m leaving, but the pure joy etched in his rosy cheeks takes the ‘no’ right from my vocabulary.

“I came,” I say with a curtsy.

“Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, and his lips brush against my cheek, a little too close for my liking, but I’m going to blame it on the alcohol.