by C. R. Ellis
“Dean, I’m fine,” I insisted, angling my head to meet his gaze. “I’ve dealt with plenty of assholes on my own before, believe it or not.”
I didn’t like that he was eyeing me with such apparent concern, and telling him I’d handled assholes before didn’t help the situation.
“Really, it’s fine. Granted, I usually don’t have to knee them in the balls to get the message through, but I can handle myself.”
“I’m sure you can, but that doesn’t make it okay,” he asserted.
“It’s really not as bad as it looked. I doubt it’ll leave a bruise. Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a bit?”
He clenched his jaw again and narrowed his eyes at me. “No. I don’t. It doesn’t matter if he didn’t leave bruises, Jasmine. He fucking manhandled you back there. The second a guy puts hands on you it’s as bad as it looks,” he hissed, looking enraged all over again. “I don’t want you to ever think it’s okay for that to happen, even if it is some random, drunk stranger. Swear to me you understand that.”
I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever seen Dean this pissed before.
I nodded, though I still didn’t fully understand Dean’s reaction. “Okay. I swear.”
Somewhere between the dancing and dealing with the asshole, the effects of the alcohol had almost worn off, and I was starting to panic at the fact that Dean and I were alone. I could tell he didn’t want to let this go, but all I wanted to do was get another drink and go back out to the dance floor. The alternative—staying here, confined in this tiny space with Dean—was not an option. Not if I wanted to escape the situation without doing something stupid.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing his forearm. “Let’s go take Emmett up on his offer to pay for all the drinks.” When he didn’t move, I realized he was still debating whether to take the guy who’d harassed me out back and give him some bruises. “Look, if it makes you feel better, you can be my Siamese twin on the dance floor.”
“You’re insane if you think I’m letting you go back out on the dance floor.”
“First of all, I don’t remember needing your permission to do something. Secondly, what happened to laying down our weapons for tonight? We’ve made it this far; let’s not fight now. Please Dean,” I begged with a sigh, taking a step to close the space between us. He tensed the slightest bit, but didn’t try to move. “I’m pretty sure that guy would have to have a death wish to show his face on the dance floor again, but if we see him, we can leave.”
His silence was magnified by the fact that we were so close that any movement from either of us would ensure that our bodies collided. For a split second his intense gaze flickered to my lips before lifting to lock onto my eyes, and I could’ve sworn he wanted to bring his mouth crashing down on mine. Something about the way he was looking at me made me want him to.
Dean peeled his eyes from mine and exhaled a sharp breath. He nodded once, and I knew it was the only form of agreement I’d get. I tugged at his arm again, and this time, he reluctantly followed me back to the table.
“Oh my god, Jasmine! Are you okay?” Jade asked.
I shot her a look that warned her away from making it into a big deal. “I’m fine, JP. Let’s not let this ruin the night.” I turned to Emmett. “You still buying? Because I’m dying for anything with liquor in it.”
Emmett immediately sprang to his feet. His blue eyes looked uncertain, like he couldn’t decide if this was a good idea or not. Dean shrugged in a “what can I say, she’s more stubborn than a three-year-old” way, and Emmett nodded before heading to the bar.
Two rounds later, things were back to what they were pre-asshole incident. Dean even managed to laugh at my crazy wedding stories.
“Alright, y’all, we’re going to take it back several years with this request,” the DJ boomed over the speakers. Moments later “Cyclone” by Baby Bash and T-Pain rang through the bar.
“Jade, we have to go! Come on,” I squealed, tugging her hand. This song held countless memories for us, and I wasn’t about to let it play without dancing my ass off to every minute of it.
She looked from Dean to Emmett. “Either y’all can join us or you can stand here, but she’s going out there either way.”
Dean looked like he was debating whether arguing with me was worth it. “Y’all lead the way.”
We walked out to the dance floor, and Jade and I fell into sync with our dancing. Emmett was a good dancer, so I wasn’t surprised when he joined in on the fun after a couple songs. Jade ditched me without a thought and started grinding her hips into him instead of me. Rude.
I didn’t dare look in Dean’s direction. I tried to remind myself of how angry he’d made me at the party weeks earlier, but after tonight that memory wasn’t as prominent in my mind.
The dance floor was jam-packed; it seemed like there was no space to breathe, let alone move. Girls started making their way to the empty, raised platform that acted as a small stage. I grabbed Jade and pulled her up to the stage with me before Dean or Emmett could stop us.
We laughed and sang along as we danced, enjoying the girls-only zone the platform had become. I didn’t want to feel, I didn’t want to analyze Dean’s sudden protective streak, I just wanted to dance. Which was working out just fine until a few songs later when I saw a beautiful brunette make her way over to the guys and start talking to Dean. The sight pulled me out of my dancing zone and stopped me cold. She ran her hand down his arm and tossed her extension-filled hair over her shoulder. Everything about her touch screamed that she was trying to stake her claim.
I hopped off the stage and headed toward them, tugging Jade behind me. Jade went to Emmett’s side, and I stopped right between the two pairs, ready to jump into whatever conversation they were having.
“I met Dean a few months ago, right after he moved to Austin,” the busty brunette said to Emmett, tracing her fingers over Dean’s chest.
“Oh, is meet the newest euphemism people are using for fuck now?” I asked, drawing four sets of widened eyes. “Or is that just hooker lingo?”
Fake-Hair-Faker-Tits glared at me. “Excuse me?”
“Did I st—”
Jade’s forced laugh cut off my response. “Uh, she was just kidding!”
I rolled my eyes and plucked the drink out of Emmett’s hand. “Whatever.”
Jade started making random conversation, and I looked up from my drink in time to see the bimbo lean in to nip Dean’s ear while her hand trailed down his body. I had no doubt she was doing her best to convince him they needed to make this a private party. He looked totally on board.
What kind of slutbags do you sleep with, Dean?! Jesus.
Maybe it was a little hypocritical to judge her, but I generally drew the line at publicly mauling guys.
I avoided Dean’s eyes, even thought they all but begged me to look at him. Instead, I looked down at my phone before turning to Jade and Emmett. “I just remembered I’m supposed to meet Paul tonight. I’ll see you guys later.”
Jade’s brow furrowed. “I thought—”
I shook my head to cut her off. “Gotta go, he’s on his way to my place. God, I get so excited just thinking about meeting Paul,” I added, plastering on a fake smile for Jade’s benefit. The man staring daggers at me had nothing to do with it.
Jade was drunk enough that my lie erased the concern in her eyes. Emmett looked as though he was trying to decide if I was full of shit or not. He looked from me to Dean and back before he sighed and shook his head, muttering something under his breath. I tried not to let my eyes wander over to the brunette now sitting in Dean’s lap, but it was impossible not to be drawn to her chest, thanks to her absurdly low-cut top.
Dean Hypocrite-Of-The-Century Preston gripped Tits McGee’s waist and pulled her closer, but kept his eyes trained on me, like he was calling my bluff and throwing his plans for tonight in my face at the same time. I forced myself to not react, even though my gut was doing stupid, knotting things and sending pulses of what had
to be anger rioting through my veins.
“Ooh, Paul. Now I get it,” Jade called with a snort, prying my eyes off the bane of my existence and pulling them back to her. “You just wanna f—”
Emmett laughed, but cut off Jade’s comment by distracting her with his lips. Damn, he’s good.
“Yep,” I called, smacking my lips on the p for emphasis. “He’s been gone for a week, so I’m sure we’ll be meeting for a while. He’s got the stamina of a marathon runner, I swear.”
Jade giggle-squealed before pulling me in for a sloppy, drunken hug. “Okay, Jas, text me when you get home.”
Dean’s goodbye came in the form of him shoving his tongue down Boobs McSlutsalot’s throat. Real fucking mature. I chose not to acknowledge him and instead shot Emmett a smile.
“Thanks for dinner and drinks, E-money,” I said, playfully punching him on the arm.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Of course, Jas. Thanks for the help.”
I hated that tonight was ending this way, but I couldn’t be here, couldn’t be around Dean anymore. I certainly didn’t want to see how far his friend would take things out in the open.
And I’d rather dig my eyeballs out of their sockets with a rusty spoon than ride in the car with them if Dean invites her back to his place.
Chapter 8
Dean
Anyone who wouldn’t choose mind reading if given the choice of superpowers has never met Jasmine Winters.
Dean Preston, wishing psychics weren’t actually full of shit
I knew going out tonight would be a mistake. Turned out to be a mistake in more ways than one. I was ready to admit, at least to myself, that I was being a complete dick. Neither of us could have predicted how well things would go for most of the night. I watched Jasmine walk away and wanted nothing more than to storm after her and force her to stay. Instead, I watched in silence, wondering what the fuck was going on inside that head of hers.
For some reason, her behavior pissed me off. Part of me wanted to run her down and have it out right there in the street. I knew it’d only be a matter of time until our ceasefire came to an end. I had a feeling our next encounter would be proof enough of that.
Her behavior combined with the fact that she fled told me that I did still know her, no matter what bullshit she tried to sell me. She’d kept a smile on her face while talking to Jade and Emmett, but her refusal to look at me spoke volumes. Her bright eyes had clouded over with more than just disdain, like she was upset with herself for having any kind of reaction to the sight of Amelia.
Amelia had been nothing more than a rebound. It was a mutually beneficial one-night ordeal, and I hadn’t seen her since. But Jasmine had no right to turn into a bitch just because a woman came on to me.
I had practically ignored everything Amelia said after Jasmine left; I was too preoccupied to even pretend to be remotely interested in her. Eventually, Amelia excused herself to go to the restroom, and it was just the three of us.
“D, are you even listening to anything this girl is saying? She’s practically inviting you to bang her in the bathroom right now,” Jade said as soon as Amelia was out of earshot.
“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah,” I replied, pushing thoughts of the impending war with Jasmine out of my head. “Wait, what?”
Emmett and Jade both laughed. “Jade was just pointing out how friendly Amelia is,” said Emmett.
Jade shot him a disapproving look. “By friendly, Emmett means outrageously slutty. Please tell me I’m not actually going to have to share a car ride with the two of you. Something tells me she might not care to wait until y’all are behind closed doors.”
“Relax, J, I’m not taking her home.”
Eventually, the bar started clearing out as closing time approached. I knew letting Amelia down wouldn’t be fun, but I also knew there was no way I’d be sleeping with her again. I told myself it was because she was, in fact, a little too slutty for me. A particular blonde had nothing to do with it. Nothing whatsoever.
As predicted, she wasn’t thrilled about being left behind, but she was already cozied up to another guy by the time we got to the door. I tried to force myself to focus on the music on the radio, on the conversations Jade and Emmett were having in the front, on the passing streets outside the car, on anything but Jasmine and how tonight had gone so awry with her.
Nothing worked. The look on her face when she came over and saw Amelia was burned into my retinas, and I was struggling to comprehend exactly what it meant. She was the one that pushed me out of her life years ago. Things weren’t adding up, and I needed to know why.
One of the biggest perks of my job at Cobalt was that I worked with my friend Charlie. We’d met in middle school at a summer camp outside Austin. He lived in Manhattan, but came to Austin every summer, and we’d kept in touch throughout high school. Then we lived together in the dorms when I went to New York for college.
The fact that he was now my boss and the director of the Austin division of Cobalt didn’t interfere with our friendship in the slightest. He was the one who’d convinced me to leave the NYPD for the private sector. The fact that Natasha was his cousin didn’t even cause a rift between us. In fact, it helped that Charlie knew Natasha and understood the situation with Nate.
After the way things ended last night, I needed a distraction from thinking about what a dick I’d been to Jasmine, so I texted Charlie to meet for lunch.
We were finishing our burgers when the conversation shifted to Natasha.
“You’re not still sleeping with her?” he asked after I recapped my visit from a couple of weeks ago.
I immediately shook my head. “No. That would only cause issues, and I won’t jeopardize the stability Nate has with her. Plus, sleeping together would definitely send her mixed signals about being broken up.”
“I don’t know, man. Be careful.”
I grabbed a cluster of my remaining fries and ate them before responding. “What do you mean?”
He arched a brow at my question. “I mean…she’s going to think there’s a chance you guys will get back together if you come running every time she calls saying there’s a problem with Nate. Maybe her concern is genuine, but he’s a good kid, and you know he’s going to keep his head down and focus on graduating. Especially after what happened in January.”
“I don’t ‘come running’ every time she calls,” I insisted. “Come on, Chuck. You know I just have to play nice with her until Nate leaves for Boston. After that, I’ll set her straight once and for all.”
Charlie shrugged and took a drink of his Coke. “Whatever you say. Al would rip my nuts from my body if she even suspected I was sneaking around with my ex.”
My face twisted in disgust. “First of all, thanks for that fucking visual. Secondly, that’s a moot point because she’s your fiancé, and I don’t even have a girlfriend.” I paused, hating the way a certain blonde’s face sprang to mind. Shoving that surprising image aside, I quickly shifted my attention back to my fries. “Look, after everything that happened with Lilly, I swore I’d do whatever it takes to make sure Nate has a shot at a better life. If I have to keep Natasha in my life to make that happen, so be it.”
“Dean,” he said slowly, in a way I already disliked.
Taking the last bite of my burger, I pushed my plate away and shook my head. “Don’t ‘Dean’ me, Charlie. I know that tone. Let’s just go.”
After a beat of hesitation, he sighed and stood from the booth.
Charlie had been one of the select few people I’d ever told about Lilly, so he should’ve known talking about her was off limits, even if I’d been the one to bring her up.
It was a dick move, but I couldn’t afford to think about Lilly anymore, and now she’d come up in conversation twice in a twenty-four-hour span.
As far as I was concerned, that was two times too many.
Chapter 9
Jasmine
Diamonds might be a girl’s best friend, but high heels are a close second.
Jasmine Winters, organizing her unreasonably large shoe collection
I spent most of Sunday trying to convince myself I was making a bigger deal out of the Dean thing than it was. Reality is a real bitch though, and that didn’t last very long.
In the privacy of my apartment, I finally admitted to myself that I cared about Dean.
Two things accompanied that realization: anger and mind-numbing fear. Anger because I couldn’t believe how weak I’d become. Fear because I was terrified of what it all meant. I’d made a deal with myself years ago designed to keep me from completely falling apart. Dealing with the Dean aftermath that summer was the second-most painful thing I’d ever done. Learning to let go of all the feelings I’d had for him took more effort than I was willing to admit, and I had absolutely no desire to go through that again.
Everything I’d become since then hinged on never getting close enough to a guy to let him hurt me. I couldn’t deny it to myself anymore; I’d let things get this far with Paul because I wasn’t invested enough to get hurt when things ended. With Dean, that was never even a remote possibility. I’d been invested in things with Dean since I was a preteen.
Everything had changed over the course of a single evening, and I was terrified more changes were coming. Changes I was damn sure not ready to face.
By late afternoon the only thing I’d succeeded in convincing myself to face was my need to get out and fight the crowds at the grocery store. A girl can only survive so long on cheese and crackers for dinner. Although, add wine to the mix and it’s practically a complete meal. I was at my car, in the middle of rummaging through my purse for my presumably forgotten grocery list when a familiar voice called out from behind me.
“Lose something?” Dean asked, clearly amused at my increasing distress. We had managed to go months living across the hall from one another without interacting, and now I apparently couldn’t get to my car without crossing paths with Dean Sleeps-With-Skanks Preston.
