Chapter 5: Chapter Five

*Brielle’s POV*

The thrum of the music has me by the throat. What was it about a heavy base and the pounding of the drums that could control an entire room of people? Without words, a good beat could make an entire room pulse as though we ourselves were some kind of heartbeat, jumping and rocking back and forth.

The sea of people bounce their chests to the beat while others rotate their hips in synchronization with one another. Some raise their glasses as the words kick in while others grab the nearest person next to them so they can dance and grind, leaving their drinks on the tables behind them.

I do neither. I am not in the mood to dance with one of these sweaty guys and am I definitely not stupid or intoxicated enough to leave my drink on a table by itself. Instead, I stand closer to my cousin, Isabell, and focus on dancing with her; or, rather, making sure she’s not one of the girls who randomly goes home with one of these guys.

Unlike me, Isabell has had on the verge of being past the fun tipsy part of the evening and is slipping very quickly into the more intoxicated version of herself. Her words aren’t slurring just yet, but one more of whatever that blue drink is in her hand, and she may have to be carried out of here, which will end our evening of fun.

Lightweight.

I glance over my shoulder and see my too familiar shadow, Jonathan, standing in the corner of the room looking stoic and alert. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was one of the barbacks or door guys making sure the crowd didn’t get too raunchy. He looks like he belongs in this place, arms folded and smoldering. Those soft brown eyes of his are keenly focused on me and the area around me.

At least there was one benefit to having him around, and that was that I would not have to carry Isabell out of here on my own. I could make him carry Isabell out, which brings a smile to my face.

The song ends and the crowd begins cheering and clapping. The DJ comes over the speaker, shouting way too loud into the microphone that’s pressed against his lips.

“How are we doing tonight? Make some noise!” He draws out the word “noise,” so it lasts longer than it is supposed to, but the crowd responds to it by screaming and shouting. Isabell, my cousin, screams alongside them, making that high pitch squealing that hits my inner ear like a hammer was crashing into the side of my head.

“Izzy!” I shout, barely able to hear myself. Her eyes, filled with the lights of the stage, shouts again before leaning into me.

“This place is amazing!” she shouts, casting small globs of spit on the side of my face. “I never wanna leave!” Before I can get another word out, two guys emerge from the mass of dancing bodies and hover near us. The one is some kind of flaxen blonde beauty who looks like he just walked off of the runway, shirt pulled down ever so slightly and his jeans barely able to accommodate him.

“You and me both sweetheart!” he says. He pressed forward to lean against Izzy. I barely hear his words, but what I do pick up makes me bristle.

“But I’m sure I can think of a better place you’d rather go. Maybe I can convince you this place isn’t all that great?” He somehow manages to snake his arm under hers so her right arm dangles over his left shoulder. “How about it? Will you let me buy you a drink and show you a good time?”

“Hey buddy,” I say forcefully, shoving his arm off of her. “She’s mine tonight.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” chimes in the other one, a guy with dark brown hair pulled back into a shaggy man-bun. His scruffy face has charm, I have to admit, but it’s the gleam in his eyes that makes me uneasy.

“You heard me,” I say, leaning into Izzy and pretending to be a little more intoxicated than I actually am. “Scram. She’s mine unless you’d rather have a problem.”

The guys shake their heads and, with an eye roll, vanish once again into the crowd.

“Awww! Why’d you have to do that. They were beautiful,” whines Izzy. I keep my eyes on where they vanished for a little while longer before giving Izzy’s arm a tug.

“They were looking for something you don’t have right now,” I say. “Which is the ability to intelligently consent to whatever they wanted. Now. Come on. We should get out of here. It’s getting late.”

“Nooo!” Izzy whined.

“Yeesss,” I say, grabbing her arm and starting to lead her off the dance floor.

“No! I have to pee!”

I sigh. I am literally talking to a child right now. Why I let Izzy convince me into coming out for a night of drinking and dancing, I will never know. It was fun, but now it is getting tedious.

I sigh and grab Izzy’s arm.

“Fine, let’s go,” I say as I drag her along with me. As she staggers behind me, guided by my grasp, Jonathan spots us moving in his direction and steps by the ramp that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay?” he asks. For a moment as I go to give him a sarcastic glare, I catch a glimpse of genuine concern in his eyes, which glance from me to the pulsing crowd. Evidently, he noticed the guys who came over to Izzy and I. Maybe it is the couple of drinks I had that affects my judgment, but I feel a little more at ease that he was watching out for creeps like those two guys instead of feeling annoyed as usual.

“Yeah, she just has to go to the bathroom. Relax,” I say. Izzy grins from ear to ear like the child she is behaving like and follows me.

“You know, he’s really hot,” grins Izzy as I get her into the bathroom stall. I roll my eyes.

“Come on Juliet. I’ll get you your Romeo as soon as we get out of here,” I say sarcastically.

Izzy, thankfully, doesn’t take very long. We push our way to the front to the mirrors past the flock of girls who are all crammed into this microscopic bathroom. I just finish touching up my lip gloss when another song comes blasting through the speakers.

Suddenly, the bathroom is a massive mosh pit and there’s suddenly a stampede of women flocking outside to dance to the song. I reach out to grab Izzy, but she is leading the pack back to the dancefloor.

I follow the crowd out to the dancefloor and find Izzy dancing with her arms above her head. I know I’m being rude as I push past a few couples, but I don’t really care.

“Izzy!” I shout as I grab her arm and start to pull her away from the crowd. We make it to the door when I glance over my shoulder and, for the first time in a while, do not see Jonathan.

What?

My shadow is gone!

I scan the crowd and, low and behold, there he is. Jonathan must have gone into the crowd to find out where we went, meaning he lost us.

This is my chance!

Maybe I can make it home and have a few minutes of peace without worrying about being babysat the whole way.

“Come on, Izzy,” I say as I pull Izzy with me out of the door and into the evening air. I fish out my keys from my clutch and keep my cousin by my side as we maneuver around couples swapping spit.

Thankfully, my car is not very far away. It’s just in a parking garage just down the road. I can see the glowing white and blue sign just down the way. We keep walking when the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

Glancing over my shoulder, I feel my insides churn uneasily as I see the same two guys from earlier. Were they following us? Or were they leaving at the same time and then conveniently walking in the same direction as us?

Fat chance.

I lace my keys in between my fingers keep Izzy close when I hear a shout from behind.

“Hey! Where you two going? Wait up!”

I know they are gaining on us, and it doesn’t help that Izzy actually turns around to see the two guys.

“Hey! Hey, Brielle, look!” she smiles. “It’s those guys – the hot ones.”

“I know,” I mutter under my breath. My heart starts racing in my chest.

Before I can stop her, Izzy comes to a dead stop, pulling me with her. I am literally going to kill her if we make it away from these guys.

“Where you two going? Feel up to an after party?” asks the dark haired one.

“No thanks,” I say before Izzy can respond. “We’re fine. Have a good night.”

“Aww, come on! You two look like you’re not ready to pack it in for the night. Let’s go. It’ll be fun,” presses the blonde. I can see immediately he is stone cold sober, and I know instantly that we could be in trouble. I may have my wits about me, but I’m at a severe disadvantage against two guys and while needing to keep track of Izzy.

What makes it worse is the two guys know I’m outmatched, and they are on top of us in an instant.

“Get back!” I growl, the blonde reaching for my arm. The moment his fingers begin to wrap around my wrist, grab his hand and twist hard, making him wince and rethink his strategy. I brace myself to lash out with a punch with the fist currently laced with my keys when I hear a forceful shout from behind the guys.

“Hey! She said to get back.” The two guys turn just enough for me to look past their massive shoulders and spot the one guy who I didn’t think I would be happy to see.

Jonathan.

He’s walking up, shoulders forward and fists clenching and unclenching slowly, and he looks angry.

“And who are you?” asks the dark haired one. Jonathan smirks as he steps up to the guy who talked to him.

“I’m the guy who’s going to beat you into next week if you don’t back off,” states Jonathan smugly. Obviously thinking they had the advantage, two against one, the two guys turn toward Jonathan and try to sucker punch him across the jaw.

Jonathan, however, is ready for it.

He ducks under the first wild swing and catches the guy right in the gut with a punch. As the other guy tries to get Jonathan in a choke hold, Jonathan wraps his arm around behind the guy’s legs, lifts up like he’s nothing, and uses his full momentum to smash the guy into the ground. He spins around and clocks the guy in the face with the heel of his wrist, and I swear I hear the guy’s nose crack. Jonathan sits up and crouches just in time to catch the leg hurdling toward his chest. One clenched fist to the groin later and the blonde crumples to the ground.

Jonathan rises to his feet, leaving the two guys on the ground groaning.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you,” mutters Jonathan. His soft brown eyes quickly evaluate Izzy before flicking over to me. “Are you alright?”

For a second, I think I hear a hint of genuine concern in his tone. I lock eyes with him, and I swear my heart starts pounding harder, which is completely involuntary.

I hate drinking. It impairs my judgment and makes things easier to feel and remember.

As he’s standing there over the two guys he pummeled, broad chested and concerned for my well-being, I remember just for a fleeting second why I used to find him so attractive.

“Fine. Thank you,” I say, immediately wanting to slap my hand over my mouth for daring to sound grateful. He smiles that quirky, dashing grin of his.

“Good.”

Without another word, he walks us back to the car and, despite my minor protesting, ends up with the keys and drives the both of us home.

Gosh, I need to never drink around him again. For a moment, I actually forgot how much I was supposed to loathe him.