Ivy #2
“Enjoy my night,” I decide, and Toby grins.
“That's our girl,” he declares, patting me on the arm gently. “We'll get the drinks, you find a spot,” he states, taking off with Dorian toward some makeshift stand while Meadow drags me closer to the water's edge.
The second she comes to a stop, I flick my sandals off and press my bare feet into the sand, relishing in the feel of the grains beneath my toes.
I can sense people staring. Not just my hated mates, others.
Yet another obstacle is getting in my way, threatening to ruin what could be a great night.
Before I can let that happen, Dorian reappears with Toby by his side, each holding drinks.
Dorian offers me two yellow concoctions in small shot glasses, and as the dance beat plays around us, they lift one in the air, encouraging me to follow suit as they each clink their glasses together before downing the shot. Just as I hoped, sickly and sweet with a touch of lemon.
I giggle as we go through the motions again, gulping down the second shot just as quickly.
“We're dancing,” Meadow declares, and before I can object, she pulls me toward the makeshift space in the center of everybody on the beach, swinging their hips and having a good time.
I feel tight and tense, catching a glimpse or two of my hated mates in the distance, each watching me. But one thing is startlingly different from last time: there are no girls, no clingers at all. There are just the four of them, sitting casually together, relaxed, and it's unnerving.
There's no one hanging off of Teddy, no one trying to catch Archer’s attention, and there's no air of contemplation between the twins, either.
As it becomes clear that they're happy to stay where they are and aren't going to impede on my fun, my muscles start to loosen up, and having a good time comes easily; carefree and happy.
I dance with euphoria, taking a few more shots as the night proceeds, until my stomach is warm and my smile is wide.
Meadow attempts her third slut drop move, the one she keeps telling me about, to no avail, when a hand splays against the bottom of my back and I freeze immediately, aware it’s none of my hated mates because I can see the four of them in the distance.
“Dance with me,” Silas whispers against my ear from behind me, and I shake my head.
“I’m okay, but thanks,” I clarify, trying to step out of his hold, but his fingers flex, moving to my sides and pulling me back against him. My back hits his chest, almost similar to how it did with Sax earlier in the week, but it feels nothing alike.
“You're so fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, his breath against my ear, and my nose crinkles.
“And you're so drunk,” I insist, turning in his hold as I try to nudge him away, but he grabs my arm.
His pupils are dilated, his hair messy and wayward as his jaw ticks.
I look down at where we’re connected, biting back the instinct to rage. “Silas, let go.”
He shakes his head. “The fucking things I do for you,” he grunts, making me frown, and I try to yank my arm back again.
“You're drunk. Go home, Silas,” I repeat, feeling his fingers more prominently against my skin.
“Fireball.”
His nickname for me is a warning on his tongue as Dorian steps in, trying to knock him back, but it only serves to rile Silas up more as he shoves Dorian with more force.
Panic floods my veins and my gaze immediately collides with Archer’s across the crowd.
He's on his feet now, hands clenched at his sides, but he doesn't move as he keeps his eyes locked on mine.
He tilts his head in a silent question, and I nip at my bottom lip for a split second before I nod.
One signal from me, and the entire party moves at Archer's command.
My Fire Protector doesn't take a single step closer, but mayhem or chaos finds me.
Four guys I’m not familiar with circle us, swiftly releasing Silas’s hold from me before dispersing, sweeping him up in a sea of people, and a moment later, everyone disappears, leaving me to wonder if it was all a figment of my imagination.
It's only when Dorian rubs at his shoulder and Archer cracks his head from side to side that I know I didn't make it up.
Pressing my lips together in a thin line, I try to let the music envelop me again, but I feel completely disoriented and disconnected.
Tearing my gaze from Archer’s, I don't get far before my eyes land on Baron a moment later, and in my floaty state, my memory is flooded by the words Odesa snarled earlier today.
Anger threatens to coil through me as I take an instinctive step toward him, but quickly spin on the spot, tilting my head to the sky as I take a deep breath, confused about what on earth I think I'm doing.
Another shadow looms behind my eyelids as I pry them open to find Dorian standing beside me.
“How's it going, fighting against that natural pull?” he asks with a smile on his face.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I grumble, and he snickers.
“You're naturally drawn to them, Ivy. It's normal. No one would be mad if you went over there,” he confirms, and I shake my head.
“I would be.”
“Would you really, though?” he asks, and the uncertainty of trying to acknowledge the answer to those feelings he's invoking has me on the brink of a spiral.
Instead of doing as he suggests, or fighting against it and arguing back even more, I spin on the spot and find myself drifting toward the water's edge,