Chapter Nine
I t’s been two days since he told me we weren’t friends, and the sting of his words hasn’t lessened with the time.
Filming wrapped up this morning and I’ve been here at Sloane’s since I left the studio. I have my head in my hand and a book on my lap, a blanket covering my legs when Sloane comes through the door, two cups of coffee in hand. She passes one to me and then collapses down onto the couch, disturbing the paperback that was resting on my knees until it falls off and closes on the page I was reading.
“You’re moping,” She points out, sipping from her cup, “Why? ”
“I am not moping,” I huff, my finger picking at the corner of the book where the laminate has started to peel.
“Stop that,” Sloane slaps at my hand and steals the book, “You’ll ruin the cover. Now tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I lie.
“Bullshit,” She calls out immediately, “Known you a long time, Sav, you’re moping but I don’t know why and honestly, I’m a little offended you’re not telling me.”
It’s true. I tell her everything but there’s something about this that doesn’t quite feel real and if I say it out loud, it’ll make it true.
It shouldn’t even bother me the way it has. Killian is right, we aren’t friends and never have been. None of Sebastian’s friends are my friends.
Fuck, that’s a little pathetic.
“Is it about that guy you had here the other day?” She presses, “Killian, was it?”
My silence is enough of an answer for her.
“Well damn, who is he? What did he do? Were you together !?”
“No!” I practically yell, “No nothing like that.”
She pouts. Her disappointment would be amusing if it wasn’t confusing. She has a distrust of men, and rightly so considering her past and what she went through before coming here, so for her to be disappointed in my sex life… Mixed signals.
“Well then, what?” She pries.
“He’s just my brothers’ friend.”
“I’ve read a romance book like that,” She sips her coffee.
“This is no romance book,” I laugh, “Trust me.”
“Girl, just tell me what happened.” Sloane is my girl. My best friend. The person I trust more than anyone in this world and I know she’ll have my back.
“Nothing, really,” I shrug, “I’m just all up in my feels.”
“That doesn’t just happen for nothing, Savannah,” She says sternly, “You like him, right?”
With a roll of my eyes, I answer, “Please, it’s just a crush. I don’t like him. He’s hot.”
“He is hot,” She agrees, “All broody and shit but if it were just a crush, then why has it got you all sad?”
“I don’t know, something weird happened,” I explain, “We were good, you know? Like fine and everything. Friendly even, but after I came off tour, something changed, and I don’t know what. One minute, we could have hour long conversations, the next he can barely say two words to me.”
She nods, “And?”
“Well, he turns up at my house the first morning I’m scheduled to shoot that music video, and I figured Sebastian sent him because that’s what my brother does, and he followed me and waited until I finished. Then he did it again the next day except he came inside with me,” I leave out the hair washing and the shouting at the stylist, “And then the other day, he supposedly tripped but Killian isn’t the clumsy type and knocked over Adrien fucking Matthews but when we got back to the dressing room he seemed pissed because he was close to me.”
Sloane purses her lips, “That’s it?”
“No,” I sigh, “He told me Adrien wasn’t being friendly, so I pointed out that neither was he and he told me we weren’t friends. Honestly, it all sounds a little silly.”
“I don’t think it’s silly, I think he hurt your feelings.”
I nod in agreement. “I guess I can get over the crush not being reciprocated, I mean what girl hasn’t crushed on their older brother’s best friend, but I thought we were friends too. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“It sounds like a him problem, to be honest,” Sloane curls her lip, “I mean that is rude as fuck.”
“I guess so.”
“And what about Adrien?” Sloane continues, “Was he being friendly?”
“I mean, a little too friendly. The man is touchy.”
“So, he likes you? ”
“Maybe?” it comes out more of a question, “He asked me for drinks the first day after shooting and asked me again, right before Killian knocked him on his ass.”
“So go for drinks,” She says, “What could it hurt?”
I nod although I’m not sure. Adrien is nice, a little handsy but I think his intentions are good and people seem to like him. It’s not like it’s a date or anything.
“Maybe I’ll text him back,” I say, “No harm, right?”
“Right,” Sloane jerks her head in a nod, “Now, I want margaritas, wanna go out?”
I pull on the end of my dress just as I spot Olivia waving at me from the booth at the top of the stairs. Malakai and Olivia sit closely together, but that’s standard for them with Dean sitting to the side. There’s no Sebastian or Willow, which is hardly surprising since they have a newborn at home, which leaves only Killian left. He is staring toward me, his face an expressionless mask before his eyes dip down the length of me once, taking in the red dress I chose for the evening before he dismisses me entirely.
Well fuck him.
Linking Sloane’s arm, I guide her toward the booth, but I already know she’s uncomfortable. “Want to leave?” I ask her, “We totally can.”
“No,” She breathes, “I’ve got to do this. ”
“You tell me the moment it’s too much,” I whisper, “We will leave.”
She gives me a small smile and nods just as we step up.
Olivia is the first to greet me, pulling me into a tight hug before the guys follow suit, “This is Sloane,” I introduce my friend, “She recently moved here, she’s who I’m staying with at the moment.”
As expected from Olivia, she’s inviting and warm to her, bringing her in so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable and the guys too, though they’re a little more reserved about it. Except Killian of course, he’s a brooding silent asshole sitting on the edge of the group. I doubt he was like that before I arrived, so I’ve clearly soured his mood. I just wish I knew what I had done to him to warrant this cold shoulder and maybe we could work it out.
Leaving Sloane with Olivia, I head to the bar to get us both a drink, feeling eyes on my back. A glance over my shoulder shows Killian burning a hole right through me. With a shake of my head, I look away and order, waiting patiently for the server to make the margaritas I ordered for us.
As he puts them on black square napkins, a large body steps up next to me, close enough I feel the air push against the side of my body and his scent hits me in the next second. “Jameson,” Killian orders, “No ice.”
He hands over a hundred and gestures toward my drinks, paying for them at the same time .
I’m feeling petty and a little mad, “We’re not friends,” I tell him, “And only friends pay for each other.” I slam my cash onto the bar in front of him, grab my drinks and walk away before he has a chance to give it back.
Sloane accepts her drink eagerly, taking a large sip the moment it’s in her hand. She’s sitting next to Dean but the space between them could fit a damn truck, and I swear Dean is physically leaning away from her.
What the fuck is it with these Archer brothers?
Ignoring him, I have a drink and then reach for Sloane, “Dance?”
“God yes,” She tips her head back, “I haven’t danced in so long!”
“I know,” I smile at her and hold her hand as I guide us both back down the steps and onto the dancefloor, finding a pocket in the crowd that gives us enough space so people don’t bump into us. The music thumps through me and there’s a little buzz in my blood thanks to the wine we had before coming out which helps me move a little smoother, my heart pounding inside my chest.
We dance and we drink too much, only returning to the table every so often to check in but we both needed this. Sloane has eased into it, the tension that had been stiffening her shoulders now loose so she’s enjoying herself. The alcohol helping.
The music drops to something a little more sultry, the beat low and hypnotic and as per my fashion, I make my way to the nearest table. It wouldn’t be a night out if I didn’t end up on one. I’m a dancer. I love to dance, and I love to put on a show.
Bracing my hands on the tabletop, I shift my weight and begin to lift myself until I can sit and then move to stand up but before I can even straighten my legs, an arm wraps around my waist, and I’m yanked back.
I let out a scream that’s swallowed by the thumping beats of the music.
“Not tonight, Tiny Dancer,” Killian growls at my ear.
Frustration works through me, “You’re not the boss of me.”
“Stop being a brat,” He continues to hold me as he backs us away from the table and into the crowd, people swallowing us until it’s all I see. I don’t see the bar or any doors, just bodies grinding to the music all around me.
“Sloane!” I panic.
“Olivia took her back to the table,” Killian tells me, keeping his lips close to my ear so he doesn’t have to shout.
My back is to his chest, his arm banded around my middle firmly.
“What are we doing?” I ask him.
“You wanted to dance,” His arm loosens, “So dance.”
“With you?” I scoff and try to turn but he stops me, pressing forward with his hips until I can feel the outline of his cock against my ass cheek. He feels hard or at least semi hard because fuck, pretty sure I shouldn’t be able to feel that much of it.
Fine.
The low sultry beats of the music sway through me as I begin to roll my hips, pressing back harder with my ass so I can push into him. A hiss of breath teases some lose tendrils of hair at my ear and his hand moves until it’s splayed across my stomach. I home in on the feel of it, how he holds me tighter while I continue to grind against him.
Heat tumbles through me, blooming low in my abdomen as I grow wet between my thighs, the feel of him against me like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He hardens further and his fingers flex, a low rumble sounding from his throat. My head thumps back against his shoulder while I continue to move.
He wanted me to dance. I’m dancing.
“Savannah,” My name is a rasp from his lips, almost pleading. It’s a sound I have never heard from him before, and it only spurs me to go harder. We’re not friends so this doesn’t matter. I’m not crossing a line.
He asked for this.
“Fuck,” He groans, pressing his hips forward more so I purposely direct my attention to the length of him, the hardness bruising against my ass cheek as I lift my hands and slide them under my hair, pulling it away from my neck .
I swear I feel a teasing brush of his lips a second later, but it doesn’t last.
His breath is coming faster, harder, chest expanding with each sharp inhale. I keep moving, keep pushing him until I feel him shudder behind me, a pained kind of sound escaping from him.
My eyes widen and I don’t need to look to know what I’ve just done.
He freezes behind me which allows me to turn just as the music switches and my eyes drop to his crotch. The denim of his jeans is dark but not dark enough to hide the wet patch.
“Looks like you made a mess, friend. ” I taunt him.
A look of pure devastation crosses his face, and I immediately feel guilty.
“Kill –” He’s shoving away from me before I can even finish his name, forcing the crowd around us to part for him. He isn’t gentle, he demands the space, and they give it to him and then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the middle of the dance floor.
What the fuck just happened?