with that girl, you decided to dip it in that?”
We all looked across the room to where my hot mess of a date was dancing. She noticed us watching and waved. This chick and her Miss America gesture.
“I'm not dipping it.” Couldn't even if I wanted to.
“Good.” She turned to face her husband and whispered something in his ear. He chuckled and nodded. Assholes.
“Buy me a drink, babe,” Cynthia slurred all of a sudden in my ear, and I shuddered. When the fuck did she get back?
“That's the last thing this bitch needs,” Stacy muttered and rolled her eyes.
I agreed.
“How about some water.” It wasn't a question, and she seemed to understand this. She sat beside me. Close—excessively, fucking close as I signaled the waitress over.
“Fine,” she pouted, but then began to trail kisses up my neck. Her hands wandered my chest. Wrong, this was fucking wrong.
“Behave.” I pulled her body in closer, while laying her hands atop the table. It was the only way to control her movements. Having her like this only cemented what I already knew and had been fighting against.
I wanted no one other than my gatita.
“Why? I know you want me, Camden.” Her attempts at seduction were basic at best. Nothing about her drew me in.
The two across from us glared at me; I ignored them and kissed the top of her head. I had to placate her. Nothing would, or could, ever happen between us. The least I could do was be nice about it before I let her down.
“Oh God!” a voice I knew too well cried out. It was low, in pain, and tormented. My eyes snapped up and toward the direction the wail came from. There stood my girl, doubled over, and with a smug-looking Hunter beside her.
My fingers dug into Cynthia’s arm, and she whimpered. Fuck. Why was she here? With him?
Those beautiful eyes of hers locked on mine, and I knew my plan had worked. The why or how didn’t matter—she’d just witnessed my betrayal.
This was it. I'd lost her.
Things is, now I wanted her in my arms instead of Cynthia. My mistake and arrogance had landed me where I never wanted to be again.
In love.
5
My body hurt.
Neck throbbed from the position I’ d fallen asleep in. In the background, the sound of my cell phone ringing blared and then stopped, only to begin again. Whomever it was needed to fuck off and let me be.
“Fuck,” I hissed as the sunlight infiltrating through my floor-to-ceiling windows irritated my eyes. It was very bright out—too bright for this time in the morning.
Squinting, I looked across the room and out the windows. This caused my head to spin, and I fell back into my earlier position. When did I get inside? I didn’t remember much of last night after my fifth drink.
The phone rang again, and I let out a curse. It was too early for this shit. Rubbing my eyes, I reached over to grab the offending object making so much noise from my nightstand. Except there was no nightstand. Matter of fact, I wasn’t on a bed at all.
How I bypassed my bedroom and crashed on my couch downstairs beats me, but what I do know is that it was a horrible mistake. The increasing throbbing of my muscles said as much. On the floor beside me sat the empty bottle of liquor I’d just opened last night. Next to it laid my shoes and socks.
It seemed to be the end of the trail, as my clothes appeared to have been ripped off and dropped to the ground when I found my resting place for the night. I surveyed the room and found nothing else out of place. Nothing broken. At the very least that was a plus.
Stretching up, I cracked my neck and made the move to stand. The room slightly swayed, and I crashed back down only to jump when my cell went off again. Couldn’t they just leave me alone to wallow in my own misery?
Reaching toward the offending noise, I grabbed it and swiped my finger across the screen. Pressing ignore, I went to my missed calls in hope that it was my gatita . No dice; ten calls, and all from