23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CONNOR
Awall of heat and sound hits me the second we push through the door, bass thrumming through the floor and straight up my spine, voices overlapping into a dull roar that makes my head spin.
I falter just inside the threshold, regretting every decision that led me here.
My gaze slips back over my shoulder toward the door, but there are already bodies spilling in behind us, crowding the entrance and cutting off what had been a perfectly good escape route about three seconds ago.
Hot breath brushes over my ear, locking every muscle in my shoulders before I register Theo leaning in beside me.
“Regretting it yet?” he hums.
“What?” I snap, because there are far too many things he could be asking me that question about.
Yesterday flashes hot through me and my stomach knots.
Is that what he means? Is he actually going to bring it up here, now, surrounded by half the team? Or does he mean me changing my mind the second I realised he was going out, because I’m fairly certain he noticed that too.
Theo lifts a brow at whatever the hell he sees on my face, then spreads his hands loosely around us, taking in the packed bar, flashing lights and bodies pressing in from every direction.
Not exactly your scene,” he chuckles.
I drag in a breath, irritation replacing the panic that had no business being there in the first place.
Someone shoves past us, forcing Theo closer until his hip knocks against mine and his mouth ends up near my ear again.
“You look like you’re about two seconds from bolting.”
I shove my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, curling my fingers against the denim.
“I’m fine.”
A woman stumbles into me from the side before I’ve even finished saying it.
I flinch away, my stomach tightening at the unexpected contact, but warm fingers find the small of my back before I can fully recoil.
Theo’s touch is light, a steady pressure that floods me with more relief than I can stomach.
He guides me closer until I’m plastered against his side, his body slotting between me and the worst of the crowd. People seem to move for him in a way they don’t for anyone else, and Theo takes advantage of it, carving a path through them with me tucked into the space beside him.
I hate how quickly my shoulders loosen, how easy it is to let him do it. Theo’s solid at my side, taking the worst of the bodies pressing past us, and I lean into him.
Barely an inch.
“Sure you are, princess,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
I almost smile.
Then someone brushes past Marcus in front of us, his head turning briefly in our direction, and my stomach drops.
Theo’s arm is around me.
I’m leaning into him.
Fuck.
“Stop touching me.”
I knock his arm away.
Theo’s arm drops away, and someone knocks into my shoulder, the crowd closing around the space he’d been keeping clear.
I straighten, forcing myself not to react to how much worse that feels.
Theo looks down at me, and whatever excuse I might have found dies when I see his face. His jaw clenches, green eyes searching mine, waiting for an explanation I have no idea how to give him.
I liked having your arm around me too much probably isn’t going to help.
I open my mouth anyway, but Theo’s expression closes before I can get anything out.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, a hollow laugh escaping as he shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
“Theo-”
He’s already turning away.
My hand lifts, reaching for him, fingers curling uselessly into my palm as he pushes between two people, disappearing into the crowd.
I drop onto the nearest stool, dragging a hand through my hair as the noise seems to close in around me again. My chest constricts, and I focus on breathing through it, on the solid edge of the bar beneath my fingers rather than the bodies brushing past behind me.
Theo leans against the counter further down the bar with a drink loose in one hand while he talks to a broad-shouldered blond beside him. I can’t hear whatever Theo says over the music, but the guy laughs and leans closer, and Theo answers with that easy grin of his.
My fingers curl against the edge of the bar.
They’re standing too close, and there’s nothing accidental about it.
I recognise the slight angle of Theo’s body now, the curve of his mouth and the way he looks at someone when he’s flirting.
I’ve had enough of that attention aimed at me over the last few weeks to know exactly what it looks like when he turns it on someone else.
The blond leans in to say something near his ear, his shoulder brushing Theo’s, and Theo doesn’t move away. If anything, his head tips towards him so he can hear better.
My stomach turns, nausea burning up the back of my throat.
Which is ridiculous.
I told Theo to stop touching me. I’m the reason he walked away in the first place, and now I’m standing here watching him like I have any right to be irritated by what he does afterwards.
Theo can flirt with whoever he wants, and the blond can stand as close as he likes.
I turn back towards the bar and make myself look anywhere else.
A hand brushes my bicep, startling me enough that I jerk back and turn towards the man standing beside me.
He’s big. Not Theo-big, but broader through the shoulders and built heavily enough that he towers over me, making me aware of how little space there is between us. Unease prickles beneath my skin, and I resist the urge to move further away, forcing my feet to stay exactly where they are.
His smile softens as he tilts his head, almost shyly, and some of the tension eases when he shifts back enough to give me a little more room.
“You looked like you could use some company,” he says. “May I?”
I hesitate, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth while I search for a polite way to say no.
My eyes flick over his shoulder, straight to Theo, green eyes already on me.
My pulse stutters against my throat as the easy amusement disappears from Theo’s face, something darker settling into his expression while his gaze moves briefly over the man standing in front of me before coming straight back to mine.
“Uh, sure,” I say hesitantly, gesturing to the stool beside me.
“I’m Darren,” he introduces himself, offering me his hand as he sits, and a quiet laugh escapes me, finding the formality oddly endearing.
“Connor.”
I take his hand, expecting a quick shake, but his warm grip lingers. His eyes linger too, moving openly over me before returning to my face with enough appreciation that understanding finally clicks into place.
“You here with anyone, Connor?” Darren asks, already turning to signal for the bartender.
My eyes find Theo again, the blond still beside him, talking, but Theo doesn’t seem to be hearing him anymore. His drink hangs loose in one hand while he watches me from across the bar, jaw set, all that lazy attention he’d been giving the guy beside him completely gone.
Our eyes meet, and a strange shiver works its way down my spine.
“Uh, no.” I drag my gaze back to Darren. “Not really.”
Darren smiles.
It’s a nice smile. Friendly. The sort that should make some of the tension wound through me ease.
“Let me buy you a drink?” he asks, although he’s already ordering by the time I open my mouth to refuse, the bartender sliding a glass in front of him.
“Oh, uh, thanks, but I don’t-”
It sticks in my throat, heat flooding my cheeks.
Darren reaches for the glass as someone squeezes between us and the couple beside him, shifting it out of the way before it gets knocked. His hand closes around the top for barely a second, fingers spread over the rim as he pulls it closer to himself.
“I don’t swing that way,” I manage eventually, the words leaving an uncomfortable weight behind them.
Darren doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with the statement, his expression softening with a short nod.
“That’s okay.”
No judgement. No awkwardness. Nothing that should make this feel like the ground has shifted slightly beneath my feet.
His hand settles against my bicep with a gentle squeeze, my body turning rigid beneath it.
“Have the drink anyway.”
“Thank you,” I mutter.
I wrap both hands around the glass, mostly because it gives them somewhere to go.
Around us, the bar keeps moving, music pounding through the speakers, people shout over one another, bodies pressing shoulder to shoulder.
I barely register any of it, my pulse too loud in my ears.
I lift the glass and barely get the cold rim against my lips before a large hand slams over the top, knocking it straight back onto the counter.
My heart lurches as liquid sloshes over the rim and across my fingers.
I turn, Theo crowding into the space behind me. His chest rises hard beneath his open shirt like he crossed the room at a sprint, but his hand doesn’t move from the glass, palm sealed over the top while his fingers curl around the sides.
“Theo, what are you-”
My voice catches in my throat at the look on Theo’s face.
I’ve seen Theo angry plenty of times. At Marcus. On the ice. At me. I know the exact shape of the grin he gets when someone pisses him off, the reckless amusement that usually comes right before he does something stupid.
None of that is there now.
His face has gone frighteningly still, jaw locked tight enough to sharpen every line of it, and he hasn’t looked at me once.
“What the fuck are you playing at, huh?”
Theo barely raises his voice, forcing Darren to lean back slightly to look at him. The colour drains from Darren’s face, his lips parting as his eyes dart towards the drink beneath Theo’s hand before snapping back up.
“Whoa, man,” he says, holding a hand up.
“Did you not fucking hear him?” Theo snaps, shoving into Darren’s space, putting himself directly between us until the broad line of his back fills my vision and Darren disappears behind him. “He’s not interested.”
“Theo,” I try, but he ignores me, shoving the drink further down the bar, out of my reach.
“You thought what?” he snaps, taking another step towards Darren. “You’d just slip something in his drink? Make him change his mind?”