Chapter 6 Red Flag? – Briar
RED FLAG?
brIAR
Then…
“C’mon, Bri, just one drink.”
I grit my teeth at the nickname. Ben wastes no time sidling up to me the moment I’m alone.
He sighs audibly when I don’t answer him. Seeing as I’ve already politely declined his invitation for a drink twice now, I’d rather save my breath.
“It’s been weeks; aren’t you over whatever this is by now?”
“Whatever this is?” I give him a hard look. “It’s a breakup, Ben. There’s nothing to ‘get over.’ We’re over. There’s no getting back together. We were over the second you cheated on me with what’s-her-face.”
Ben’s face reddens. “I’ve told you a million times, Harmony and I are just friends!
” Ben half whines, having the audacity to look irritated with me.
It’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess not to slap him across the face.
Maybe I should have taken him up on that offer to buy me a drink, seeing as my glass of vodka soda is empty…
“Last time I checked, friends don’t shove their tongues down other friend’s throats.”
He blocks my attempt to shove past him, catching hold of my arm and wrenching me back against the bar top. I wince at the tightness of his grip.
“That never happened,” he growls.
I roll my eyes, so over this bullshit. Seriously? “There’s literally a photo of it happening!”
“Bri, I told you, I was so drunk that night. I don’t even remember it!” His hand releases me, flying up in his defense.
I want to scream. “That doesn’t make it okay!”
“C’mon, one drink? Just let me buy you one drink and we can talk.” His expression flips from anger back to manipulative sweetness. The back of his finger comes up to graze the bare skin of my abdomen before he grips my side, trying to pull me closer to him.
I reach down and rip his hand off my hip.
He responds by leaning in closer, using the same hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My blood is boiling.
“Stop touching me!” I lean as far away from him as I can, the sharp edge of the bar top behind me digging into my spine. I feel a rush of panic when both his arms come down on either side of me, caging me in. He ignores me. His mouth finds my jawline, and there’s nowhere left to recoil to.
“C’mon, baby,” he breathes in between kisses, still thinking I’m going to change my mind. “I know you’ve missed me. I’ve missed you too.”
“Ben—” I bring up both of my hands preparing to shove him away from me, but he’s already—gone?
An inked hand circles around my waist from behind, lightly drawing me into the side of—
Oh, my god. Recognizable by his scowl alone, it’s Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Miserable from earlier, but he’s not looking at me. No, this time, his piercing gaze is fixed with deadly precision on my ex-boyfriend.
“Did you just put your hands on my girl?” There’s a quiet fury in his words, his voice cold and controlled, but the threat within them is unmistakable.
Did he just say my girl?
Without letting go of me, my tattooed nightmare leans forward, speaking directly into Ben’s ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but the blood drains from Ben’s face; his skin pales, eyes widening in utter shock. The guy leans back, his grip on me is solid.
Ben looks in between the two of us, and he looks like he wants to say something, but the guy at my side tilts his head ever-so-slightly, and Ben goes ghostly white. His mouth snaps shut, and he turns, disappearing into the crowd without another word.
I stare after him in disbelief. “What did you—?”
“Follow me.” The tattooed hand slips from my waist to grip my hand before stepping away from the bar. He pauses when his tug meets resistance, seeing as how I’m still frozen in place.
Partially in shock and still stunned by what just happened, I give in and follow, allowing him to lead me through the crowded bar.
The crowd parts for him like the Red Sea, and we have no trouble reaching the VIP section far off to the right. The bouncer unhooks the velvet rope without a word. There’s fewer people in here, and I’m instantly grateful for a little extra space to breathe.
“Do you want a drink?”
I whip my head back to my still-unnamed savior. “What?” I shout over the loud music, processing his words only after I’ve already replied.
“A drink?” he repeats, but leans in closer this time. So close I can smell him, and—oh, he smells… good. I take a deep inhale of the dark citrus scent, only to realize he’s still waiting for an answer.
“Oh, um… water. Please.” I shoot him a nervous glance. “A bottle of water,” I rush to add, swallowing hard under the intensity of his gaze. “If they have it.”
He leans back, speaking into the ear of some other guy I hadn’t noticed was lingering nearby. He nods, heading back to the bar.
I watch him go. I’ve never been in the VIP section of a club before, so maybe that’s normal?
His hand is still on mine, but I don’t pull away. He guides me up the stairs to an even more exclusive balcony section of the club, leading me to a set of empty armchairs. They’re tucked into the far corner by the railing, but damn, you can see the entire club from up here.
I’m distracted, eyes scanning the scene below, so I’m defenseless when he takes a seat, tugging me backward. A yelp escapes me. He puts me on his lap, my back pressed against his hard chest, making me far too conscious of how I am straddling his knee.
I attempt to lunge for the empty armchair beside me, but his hand on my abdomen keeps me in place.
“He’s still watching.” That deep voice is in my ear, his tattooed finger moving right past my eye, directing my attention all the way through the crowded bar until I find Ben.
So he didn’t leave.
He’s rejoined his friends, nursing some trash IPA, I’m sure, all while glowering in our direction.
I let out a deep sigh, my body relaxing slightly, and the hand drops away from my stomach, though the heat of his touch still lingers on that sliver of bare skin.
The man from earlier reappears with two bottles of water. Still sealed. He hands one to each of us before reassuming his post, watching our backs.
I furrow my brow, glancing back at my mystery man as he downs half of his bottle of water.
“You’re not drinking?” I ask, surprised.
“Neither are you.” He points to the still unopened bottle of water in my hand.
“Yeah, well—” I eye him carefully, gripping the bottle tighter. “I don’t drink around people I don’t know,” I admit. Usually I would lie and say it’s because I have an early morning or something along those lines, but something tells me lying to this man, even a white lie, is a bad idea.
“Clever girl.” The corner of his mouth ticks up as he takes another sip from his water. His praise travels straight through to my core, and it’s an effort not to squirm from where I’m perched on his knee.
“What about you?” I ask casually. Too casually.
“I don’t drink when I’m working.”
I sit up straight, glancing around us. “Working? You work here?”
“You could say that,” he replies almost absentmindedly. His attention focused on something located over my shoulder.
I follow his eyes back to Ben, who looks like he’s fighting an internal battle on whether or not to brave coming over here.
“He wants you.”
“Very observant.” I roll my eyes at the obvious, and my shoulders tense when I see a wicked gleam enter his eyes.
“But you don’t want him.”
It’s not a question. I glance back in Ben’s direction. We dated for almost two years, but mostly because of pressure from our parents. Close family friends and what-not. Ben was at Harvard; I was at Delacroix—it just made sense. Until it didn’t.
“No.” I steal a word out of his playbook, while offering no further explanation.
Fingers on my chin bring my face back around to him.
He brings me close, drawing me in until we’re only inches apart.
His eyes are on my lips. Eyes that I notice are—fractured down the middle.
I’d thought earlier they were a dark green, but up close I can see how each iris splits perfectly in half.
Half green, half brown. It’s unsettling, honestly, but beautiful. Angelic and demonic.
Those fractured eyes fix on me now, heated; they feel like fire on my skin.
“What was the plan exactly?”
My cheeks flush. “I don’t know. It’s not like I planned this.
I just—we broke up weeks ago, and my roommate convinced me to come out, but then Miles was here…
” I’m over-explaining, but this guy has me so off-kilter.
"And then I saw Ben, and I—panicked.” I look into his eyes, surprised to find he’s listening intently despite my rambling.
I swallow, twisting my fingers together.
“Maybe part of me wanted to get back at him for cheating on me. And part of me wanted to show him I moved on and that I wasn’t sitting at home for weeks in my pajamas eating ice cream and watching shitty-ass romance movies because of him. ”
I might be imagining it, but I think his hard gaze softens slightly.
“And how far do you want to go to prove you’ve moved on?
” His eyes are anything but cool now. He drops his gaze back to my lips, leaning in further, invading my space, invading my…
soul, when I inhale that dark citrusy scent of him once again.
He hesitates, his hands are on my waist, just before his mouth lightly grazes against mine, giving me the opportunity to pull away, if I want to.
But I don’t want to—I don’t think. I stay where I am, my eyes flicking up to find him reading my expression.
“Far,” I whisper.
His eyes flash—my only warning before his lips crash against mine.
His hand slides up, gripping the back of my neck, and this man doesn’t just kiss me…
No, he claims my mouth. My lips part, and he takes full advantage.
His tongue sweeps through, tangling with my own.
Strong hands grip my hips, and I have no control over my thighs when they tighten around him, forgetting for a moment just how very much in public we are.
He’s the first to pull away, and a small whimper escapes me at his sudden absence, my lips chasing his.
His face is a stone mask, but his eyes—his eyes are molten, staring at my mouth, slowly lifting. “Do you want to get out of here, love?”
That accent. I feel it twisting inside me. I’m still nearly breathless from his total invasion of my senses.
I bite my lip, trying to decide, and I swear I feel something harden underneath me.
I weigh my options. This guy is built. He’s both exceedingly tall and muscled; I wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight.
Everything about him screams danger. Red flags all around.
He’s a wild card, but yet, every touch from him has been gentle, respectful.
Except for his claim on my mouth… that was straight sin. And god if I don’t need more.
“I—I don’t even know your name,” I sputter out, flustered and torn.
He stares at me for a long moment, as if deciding something.
“Rí.”
I arch a brow, leaning back to look at him, my arms still wrapped around his neck. Wait, when did they get there?
“Ree?” I repeat, uncertain if I’m hearing him right, but he nods in confirmation. My eyes narrow with suspicion. “That’s not your real name.”
“No, it’s not,” he admits, to my surprise.
“What’s your real name?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.” His eyes flash again, and oh, the flag, Briar. It’s bright, glaringly red.
“What’s your name?”
I chew my lip, indecision muddying up my mind. Are we doing this? Am I doing this? Lily’s words play back in my mind. And Rí looks like just what I need to blow off a little steam.
“Rose,” I breathe out after some hesitation, keeping my eyes on his.
“Rose,” he repeats, and oh man, it’s not even my real name, and that Irish accent makes me want to melt. His eyes sparkle. “Now we’re both liars.”
He rises carefully, lifting me off his lap. He says something to the guy at our backs before his gaze finds me again. “Ready?”
“N-No,” I stutter out, my nerves getting the better of me, and I watch his brows rise.
“No, I—” I let go of his hand, backing away from him and his friend, who is watching me now too. “I’m actually gonna go. Thanks for the, err—save. I owe you one!” I call out, before I bolt for the exit.
I don’t look back even though I feel the burn of his stare on my neck the entire way out.