Chapter 14
Hailey
Marquee is far from dark and silent—the music is so loud, I feel each beat drop vibrate through my body, and the flashing lights are so overwhelming, I honestly just feel stressed.
One of the bottle service hosts guides us through the crowds toward the booth I spent far too many nights planning, and our presence is immediately celebrated.
Tyler whoops. John pats Theo around the back of his neck.
Melissa claps her hands together in delight.
“Finally!” Evie yells, acrobatically launching herself over the drinks table. “I thought you guys were never going to show up. How long exactly did you need to grab something from your room?” She arches a skeptical eyebrow at Theo, then gives me a sidelong look paired with a knowing smile.
My cheeks immediately heat up from being under pressure, but it is not what she thinks.
Yes, Theo and I were absolutely gone longer than five minutes—but because I had my eyes burning holes in my Word document, racing to piece together comprehensible paragraphs as best I can with a day’s worth of cocktails in my bloodstream.
Theo assisted by snickering at every boozy misspelling and shrugging innocently when I glared at him.
Honestly, how I even managed to write anything after the ordeal I went through aiding him in the bathroom, I’ll never know.
“You need to come closer,” he said as I hovered by the bathroom door, arm outstretched behind me, eyes squeezed closed. “Hails, c’mon. God blessed me, so I require both of my hands.”
As I scoffed at his huge ego, I also grimaced and reluctantly backed up into the bathroom toward him.
The tension in the handcuffs locking us together slackened as I got close, and, as Theo unzipped his jeans, all I could think about was that my hand was being held hostage approximately three inches away from his dick.
I vowed never to retell that moment to Addy.
Speaking of Addy . . . I glance around the booth, and she’s not here. Neither is Connor. Liam, however, sits on the edge of the booth and stares glumly into his drink, not quite acknowledging mine and Theo’s arrival. I wonder what’s got him so grumpy.
“Where’s Addy?” Theo asks at the same time I’m thinking it.
Evie leans in a little closer and rolls her eyes in Liam’s direction. “I think maybe they’ve had a little tiff. I texted her to see if everything’s okay, and she says she’ll be back down soon.”
Theo frowns. “That’s not a very good omen for the wedding, is it?”
“It’s been a long day, I guess. Everyone’s tired and drunk,” Evie says with a shrug. “Couples bicker sometimes, but like you’d know. You’ve never dated anyone longer than a week.”
“Better than being dumped after six months by that guy in the garage band you were obsessed with.”
Evie bares her teeth and holds up a threatening fist as Theo dips to the side with a laugh, and before the two of them can launch into further rivalry, Melissa interrupts the three of us. She pokes her head over Evie’s shoulder and points her drink at Theo and me.
“Hey, those handcuffs are pretty sturdy!” she says, like she didn’t expect them to actually stay intact for longer than an hour.
“Any chance you’d like to release us now?” I ask with wide, puppy-dog eyes and a polite smile as I hold up mine and Theo’s wrists. “I’ve just had to witness him pee, so surely my dare is complete?”
Melissa grins. “Nope,” she says, popping her lips on the “p”.
“Oh, we’re still handcuffed together?” Theo says, blinking at me in feigned surprise. “I thought you were just super clingy and couldn’t bear to leave my side.”
“Mel,” I say desperately, dropping my cute act and fixing her with a serious look. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with for the past three hours? This. Theodore and his big, fat ego. I don’t even know how it fits inside his head.”
Melissa and Evie exchange a look, before they both burst into laughter and shake their heads no in perfect synchronization. “Let’s go dance,” Mel says, grabbing Evie’s hand and pulling her onto the crowded dance floor.
Theo tugs on my wrist, and when I glance at him, he seems far too amused that our handcuffs saga continues. “Do you want to go dance too?”
“That’s okay. How about a drink?”
“How about we grab a drink and then dance?”
“How about just the drink part?”
Theo pouts his lips at me. “Why don’t you want to dance with me, Hails? I’m a good dancer. I’m good at everything.”
I laugh as I pull him toward the drinks table.
“It’s just not my thing. I don’t really know how to dance, and I feel like I just look stupid whenever I try.
I’ll be much happier sitting here in the booth forcing a drink down my throat and watching everyone else.
” With my free hand, I grab a bottle of rum and pour both of us a drink, mixing the liquor with some pineapple juice.
As I slip the drink into Theo’s hand, I see his pout has exaggerated even further. “Look how crowded this place is. It’s also, like, pitch black. Absolutely no one will be paying attention to you, I promise.”
“Theo . . .”
“You’re with me, Hails. I’ll look after you out there,” he says, and when I feel him tug hopefully on the handcuffs, I don’t put up much of a fight despite my apprehension.
Drinks in hand, we slip out of the booth past our personal security guard and onto the heaving dance floor. Theo weaves a path through a sea of faces until we’re right in the thick of the crowd, then he turns to face me with a huge grin. Our handcuffed wrists hang awkwardly in the space between us.
He starts to nod along with the music, moving his body in sync with the beat, and I try my best to mirror his movements, but I just can’t relax.
I feel so entirely out of my depth. I’m so painfully shy, it’s almost debilitating sometimes.
Why does nothing ever feel natural to me?
Why do I always feel like the outsider while everyone else seems like they were handed the rulebook to socialization? Where’s my copy, dammit?
Theo stops dancing, his smile slackening. He tilts his head to one side and watches me carefully with concern. He leans in close, drawing his mouth close to my ear so that I can hear him over the music. “You look really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. We can go back to the booth—”
“No, no, it’s okay,” I say, ignoring the brush of his body against mine. “This just isn’t my thing. All of these people, the music, the lights, dancing . . . It’s a bit overstimulating, but I’m fine, I promise. This is just what you have to do on a bachelorette party.”
Handcuffs locked around our wrists, Theo slips his hand into mine and says into my ear, “Just focus on me.”
I gulp. “You?”
“Yeah. Me.” He moves back a little so that he can meet my gaze again. The strobe lights are like fireworks reflecting in his Sinclair blue eyes, vibrant and colorful. “I’m easy to look at.”
“You really can’t go five minutes without praising yourself, can you?
” I scoff, but inside my chest, my heart hammers at a million miles an hour.
I’m trying to play it cool, but Theo is the only thing I can focus on right now.
More specifically, the feel of his hand in mine, his skin soft, warm, comforting.
He smirks, and my stomach flips. “Don’t act like you don’t love my big, fat ego.”
It’s the alcohol. It has to be. I’m no stranger to Theo’s signature cocky smiles, but all of a sudden, I no longer feel indifferent about them.
Every time Theo smirks at me this evening, something strange happens inside of my body.
A tingle of anticipation that runs down my spine, a heat that flares over my cheeks, a magnetic pull toward him.
Am I seriously so drunk that Theodore Sinclair is actually becoming . . . desirable?
“I don’t love your big, fat ego,” I counter.
He rests his forehead gently against mine, smoldering his eyes challengingly while my heart suffers palpitations. “You do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do,” he whispers, and crap, he’s so totally right.
I do enjoy Theodore Sinclair’s big, fat ego.
What is wrong with me?
Maybe it’s the Vegas heat. Yes, that’s it. The alcohol and the heat have me dehydrated and delusional, and when I wake up tomorrow morning, sober, I’ll be back to thinking Theo is arrogant and obnoxious and incredibly annoying.
But right now . . . Right now his eyes gaze into mine, his lips only a touch away.
The intense eye contact is too much to handle. I break it, glancing away and stepping back. I don’t know what just happened, but I immediately cut the tension by changing the tone of conversation.
“How late do you think it’ll be before everyone agrees to turn in for the night?”
“Well, what time did your itinerary have down as bedtime?” Theo asks, hand still in mine as he casually rocks his body in sync with the music.
“It was undetermined.”
“Undetermined?” He slackens his jaw in mock horror, then smiles.
“Whenever you’re ready for bed, I’ll turn in for the night, too.
That way we can be the boring ones together.
Plus, I don’t really have a choice but to come with you to bed .
. .” He squeezes our intertwined hands, drawing attention to the handcuffs around them.
“You are not coming to bed with me,” I say very sternly, making my point crystal clear.
“Melissa is still holding the keys to these cuffs hostage. The matter may be out of my hands, Hails,” he says with a cool shrug, but there’s a twinkle of joy in his eyes. “We could cuddle. You know, if the AC gets a little too cold for you. I’ve been told my skin is the temperature of the sun—”
“There will be no cuddling, Theodore.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Your loss.”
“I’ll survive.”
But actually, the thought of lying under the cool AC with Theo’s arms wrapped around me sounds rather nice.
I’ve been single for too long, and I’m a certified lover girl.
It comes naturally as a romance writer, after all.
When I do love, I love hard and I love deeply, which hurts all the more when it never works out (which seems to always be the case for me).
It’s been forever since I’ve enjoyed someone else’s embrace, and it’s the intimate moments I miss the most when I’m not in a relationship.
Forget the sex. It’s the hand squeezes when we’re in the car listening to music without talking, the stroking of my hair when I’m anxious, the cuddle on the couch after a long day at work.
Stop it, Hailey, I mentally scold myself. You are not cuddling with Addy’s brother in Vegas.
Even though I’d quite like to.