The Bad Boy's Dance (17 page)

              The guy was ignoring my friends, his cobalt blue eyes following my every move. Finally, I scooted off the table and dropped to the ground, almost face-planting until Caleb caught my arm.

              “Hmm…” I murmured, staggering slightly. “You’re pretty,” I deduced.

              The guy smirked. “Pretty?”

              Reaching out, I smacked my palms against his face and squished his cheeks together. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

              He laughed, and a wicked smile split his lips. “Not me.”

              Then, he bent and hauled me over his shoulder. Caleb and Dana cried out, hurrying to keep up with him as the guy carted me across the dance floor, shoving people out of his path.

              “Where are you going? She’s supposed to be sleeping over at my house!” Dana protested as he walked into the street. I bounced against a muscular back, and something about this situation was oddly familiar.

              What a nice butt he has…

              “Your father is a cop, and she’s a minor. Do you really want to get Ivy in that kind of trouble?” he snapped.

              “Then she can stay with me! Or we can drop her off at her house!” Caleb planted himself in front of the guy’s car.

              “I assume you have parents? She is going to be throwing up for most of the night, and she’s gonna have a hell of a hangover in the morning. She needs peace and quiet, and my house has plenty of that.”

              It started to trickle in that this guy was taking me away. Oh no! Where was the big white van?

             
There is no way his butt is that firm
. My finger twitched.

              “This is ridiculous! Who do you think you are?” Caleb demanded angrily.

              The guy ignored him, turning to Dana instead. “Can you tame your little guard dog here? He’s wasting time with his yapping.”

              Dana wavered, but tugged on Caleb’s arm. “Come on, he’s right. There’s no other alternative.”

              “You’re willing to leave her with him in this condition?” Caleb asked incredulously.

              “Do you see any other options? And it’s not like he’s some stranger from 7 Eleven, Caleb! Ivy trusts him.”

              “She does?” this from the guy and Caleb.

              “Yes,” Dana said firmly. “Take her, but if I hear that you did
anything
funny, so help me God I will make you sure you are celibate for the rest of your life. I don’t care how scary you are, I’ll hunt you down.”

              The guy laughed. What a nice sound. Raspy and low, like a secret whispered at midnight.

              “What is it with both of you girls threatening to chop off my-what the hell?!” He jumped. “Ivy, did you just poke my ass
again
?”

              It was very firm. I used both hands to squeeze this time, and the guy chuckled before lowering me unsteadily to the floor. “I think it’s me you should worry she’ll take advantage of.”

              My vision blurred, and the next thing I knew, I was belted into the front seat of a car. Leather seats, top of the art gear, and shiny lights indicated that this car was very expensive. “Do not throw up in here. I’ll load you into the trunk if you do,” the guy warned, as if reading my thoughts.

              My happy buzz was fading, and my tummy began to roil with the smooth movements of the car. “Where…are you…taking me?” I managed to inquire around my nausea.

              “To the house you’d trade your first-born baby to have, remember?”

              I clapped a hand over my mouth, and he stepped on the gas, catapulting the car forward. “We’re almost there, just hold on.”

              A bunch of streets passed in a blur, and I couldn’t tell if it was from my inebriated mind or if the guy was just driving that fast.

              He parked messily in the street and opened my door. When I immediately started to give the asphalt a hug, he scooped me up into his arms, carrying me bridal style.

              I spent the next ten minutes getting personally acquainted with the big white friendly bowl.

              “It’s a good thing I don’t use this bathroom,” the guy commented. He’d been holding my hair back the past few round of vomiting.

              I retched.

              “Never thought I’d see the day I’d hold a woman’s hair while she threw up. Well, except my mother,” he mused.

              Accepting the bottle cap of Listerine he handed me, I washed away the foul taste in my mouth. He helped me to my feet, and I collapsed on a huge bed.

              The more time I’d spent with him- and with each round of regurgitation- the guy had become more and more familiar. Where did I know him?

              “Sleep, angel. You’ll need it.” He tucked a blanket over my shoulders.

              Wait a minute….

              Asher grinned at my stricken face, the last thing I saw before darkness claimed me.

Chapter Fifteen

           Underwear-Check!

Alright, which demonic, evil, hellish being was doing construction work this early in the morning?

              Groaning, I rolled onto my side and peeled open my eyes. Oh wait, that pounding was coming from my head. Instead of being greeted by my lavender drapes, a fireplace situated under a large vintage clock was the first thing I saw. Something shifted, moving the bed, and I froze.

              Turning my body slowly, I found myself staring at a sleeping Asher.

              He was next to me in bed. And I didn’t remember what happened last night.

              Oh my goobers. I didn’t. I couldn’t have done the deed with him!

              Did I…?

              Checking under the blanket, I breathed a sigh of relief to find my clothes still on. I took the minute to study Asher. I’d never seen him asleep before. He looked…peaceful. His expression was wiped of any arrogance or defensiveness, his hair was rumpled, and the lines of concentration were gone.

              Not wanting to disturb him-or wake him up and endure his mockery of whatever happened last night- I tiptoed from the bed and into the hall. After spending a few minutes fruitlessly opening doors, I located the bathroom at the very end of the spacious hall.

              The reflection in the mirror was a monster. My hair was frizzed in every direction possible. What’s more, lines were crusted on my forehead from where I’d slept on the pillow, and my lips were puffy. Not to mention I smelled like Pepi Le Pue.

              Taming my hair was impossible, so I just wrapped it into a bun to deal with later. Scrubbing my face with cold water a few times seemed to do the trick, and I tried to use as much soap as possible to lessen my B.O. There was this disgusting taste in my mouth, probably my filmy teeth, but no way was I swapping cavities with Grayson.

              Heading back to the room, I poked my head inside hesitantly only to find that the bed was empty. Where was Asher?

              Getting lost in his maze of a home was becoming a very real possibility when I finally found the spiral staircase. He carried me all the way up here? Guess those muscles weren’t just for show.

              Descending quietly, I leaned over the banister when I heard the sound of low murmurs. Cocking my head like a greyhound, I followed the noise to the familiar kitchen. Hovering just outside the doorway, I caught a glimpse of Asher with the woman who’d fallen into my arms my first visit here.

              “Trevor is the tamest of the lot. If Derevko decides he wants his money, we’re in for a world of trouble,” she said casually, flicking ash from the end of her cigarette into a nearby ash tray.

              The woman was immaculately dressed in a teal pantsuit and five-inch heels. Her hair was coiffed neatly, and makeup meticulously applied to hide her wrinkles. Her eyes were the same ocean blue as Asher’s, as well as her expressive lips.

              “Mom,” Asher snapped, confirming my suspicion. “I know. What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past three months? Play games? Derevko won’t get anything from offing us before he gets his money.”

              My morality was in question here. Eavesdropping was not a good policy to live by, but you know what made it worse? Eavesdropping with a hangover. Because when you’re hungover and trying to be discreet, you can occasionally miscalculate the distance between your feet and the wall…

              …And end up tripping and stumbling straight into the situation you were eavesdropping on.

              “Ivy?” Asher asked, surprised. Where did he think I went? I had no transportation and who knows where my phone hid itself. His expression rearranged to one of stony assessment. “How much did you hear?”

              “Um…” I massaged my head. Couldn’t we all whisper today? “Not much.”

              The woman scowled. At first I thought it was at me, but it was directed behind me, at Asher. “What have I told you about these girls running around? It’s too risky with these playthings.”

              She picked up her coffee mug and exited the room without a glance at me.

              Asher slid onto a chair on the kitchen island. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Sorry about that. She’s not pleasant in the morning.”

              I was still recovering from being basically called a slut. And how many girls did Asher have sneaking from his bed anyway, for there to be a rule regarding them?

              Seating myself across from him, I shook my head. “Whatever. I guess we’re even after Spencer’s interrogation earlier.”

              “Although, I would like to burn the image of you with ‘playthings’ from my mind,” I added, shuddering. “Major TMI.”

              Asher smirked. “Speaking of TMI…”

              Oh jeezums. Here it comes.

              “Who knew you were such a lightweight?”

              I dropped my head into my arms. “I’ve never gotten that drunk before,” I admitted, my voice muffled.

              “I guessed as much when you started feeling up my ass. For a second time, I might add.” Oh, how I would love to wipe away that smugness.

              “Check your ego, dude, I would’ve felt up a llama at that point.”

              Instead of taking my advice, Asher yawned and stretched his arms. “Why did you decide to get drunk, anyway? We got an A on that assignment Knut gave us, so you should’ve been ecstatic.”

              I winced as some of last night’s events leaked through. I’d made a Grade A fool of myself. “I never get drunk,” I explained.

              “Please revisit my earlier question.”

              Smart aleck. Shrugging, I answered offhandedly. “Time for a change, I guess. My senior year is over, and I’m not going to live in the past forever.”

              “The past?” Asher quirked an eyebrow.

              I needed to start stapling my mouth shut. “Never mind. Listen, thank you for yesterday. I can only imagine what a trainwreck I was, and you didn’t have to take care of me. So…thanks.”

              He fisted a hand over his heart dramatically. “The Ivy Robello is thanking
me
? The man she pledges to hate forever? Her own brimstone and fire?”

              Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet. “Let me know when the one-man play comes out.”

              He winked. “I’ll send you first row tickets.”

              I checked my watch and instantly regretted it. It was already afternoon! Holy smoked salmon, Mom was going to fillet me and leave my skin to dry in the sun!

              “Where are my shoes?!” I screeched. “My mother is going to kill me! She’s a nurse too, she’ll know how to make it look like an accident!”

              “And she accuses me of theatrics,” Asher muttered, then pointed behind me. “I left them by the front door.”

              Before I could retrieve my shoes, though, a familiar techno ringtone echoed in the massive house. “My phone!” I cried.

              “Get your shoes, I’ll get the phone,” Asher said, eyeing me. “You’re awfully spry for a hung-over newbie.”

              “Just go, Grayson!”

              Putting my shoes on proved to be a complicated task. Being hung-over did not help my already impaired coordination. I bumped into the wall so many times, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a mosaic of bruises on my body later.

              Asher returned and flipped my phone over to me. I caught it and glared at him, only to receive an innocent smile.

              I had thirty-five missed calls and a myriad of texts.

              Most of them were from Dana, so I called her first.

              “Ivy!” she shrilled. Or, at least it sounded like a shrill to me. Holding the phone farther from my ear seemed the safest idea.