Taryn
There are a surprising number of people at Madness tonight.
Sweaty bodies writhe and sing along to Drake.
Clothes are too tight. Dresses are riding up thighs.
T-shirts are stretched across muscular chests.
Beer bottles litter cocktail tables. Glasses are raised in the air.
Someone may actually be having sex up against the wall in the corner.
“You’ve had enough.”
And, then, there’s that. I was absolutely right that Gráinne would be here tonight.
It probably wasn’t fair to bait her the way I did, but it worked.
She even insisted that her fiancé stay home.
However, his brother and cousin have been circling us all night, showing up immediately after we did.
Pretty sure they followed us here. I can’t believe these guys.
I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by overprotective brothers, but these guys are really on active duty tonight.
Luca’s brother, Matteo, is currently pulling a martini glass out of a tipsy Elizabeth’s hand. His glower scares away the poor guy who was trying to talk to her. I march over and remove the glass that he’s holding by its stem before he can react.
“We don’t need a babysitter,” I grit out, handing the flamingo pink cocktail back to Elizabeth.
“You’ve all had enough to drink,” he says through clenched teeth, still glaring at Elizabeth. I’m a little proud when she shrugs and proceeds to drain her cosmo.
“Okay, guys,” Gráinne sings as she dances over with her own drink in hand, looking at the boys. She flicks her manicured fingers at them. “Shoo.”
“You’re all fucking blasted.” Matteo scowls at her, and his screwed-up face causes a bark of laughter from my friend, which I don’t think is the reaction he was necessarily going for.
She mimics his expression, nearly crossing her eyes in the process.
This causes Stephanie to laugh so hard it sets off a chain reaction with Gráinne who joins her hysterics.
The two of them are holding on to each other, trading silly faces, tears streaming down their cheeks as they snort laugh without a care in the world.
Okay, so we may all be a teeny tiny bit drunk.
Other than the two Italian thugs that have been watching us all night, it’s been fun. Mostly.
I texted Sam on the way here. At the time, I thought I could have a last hookup.
Then, when he got here, I decided I wasn’t in the mood—too many racing thoughts about my future—so I started drinking and dancing my troubles away.
He’s obviously confused about what he’s doing here, since I’m ignoring him.
I should probably tell him about Liam. The only issue is that telling him means I’m admitting that this engagement is real.
That there is no way out. That I accept the shit hand I’ve been dealt.
I simply can’t say the words out loud. My head is a mess.
“You wanna get out of here?” Sam leans over to whisper in my ear.
I’m about to argue that I am nowhere near ready to leave—I refuse to cut this supposedly fun night short—when I spot a familiar auburn head turned to chat with some blonde who looks as if she is trying to climb on top of him.
Seriously, I’m not sure if she could press herself any closer.
I must look as irritated as I feel because Sam follows my gaze.
I grab Sam’s hand and tug him closer to the guy that I will become betrothed to in less than twenty-four hours. Liam doesn’t notice me, of course, with Barbie rubbing all over him. I watch as he smiles at her. Raises a toast with his friends. Probably celebrating getting laid tonight. Jackass.
“Taryn?”
Sam’s confused. Yeah. Join the club.
Honestly, it’s not like Liam’s breaking any rules.
I don’t know why I’m so fired up about this.
We aren’t engaged yet. He doesn’t owe me anything, so I can’t be upset that he’s cheating on me.
Nah. I doubt that’s what is pissing me off.
But, I can’t deny that I am annoyed by watching him with Blondie.
There is no way that I’m actually jealous of the pretty girl with her stupid shiny hair and perfect figure.
Right? It’s probably because I’m drunk. Yeah. I’m going with that explanation.
I side-eye Liam once more and decide that he doesn’t get to have all the fun.
Nope. He doesn’t get to stand there, looking like sin, apparently handing out free samples.
I am the one who is supposed to be having a great time tonight.
I am the one who is supposed to be hooking up.
Me. Not him. This odd logic leads to me throwing my arms around Sam’s neck and laying one on him.
Poor guy freezes for a moment before he awkwardly sets his hands on my waist. I’m instantly reminded of my first dance in sixth-grade gym class with Sean Doyle.
This feels every bit as uncomfortable. I pull back slightly and sigh.
I’m sure he’s trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me since, after disregarding him all evening, I’ve suddenly decided to molest him while repeatedly looking over his shoulder.
“You can do better than that,” I whisper before nipping Sam’s bottom lip.
He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. Are you on your period or something?”
Wait. He didn’t seriously just ask me if—
“Taryn?”
I pull back to look into the clear blue eyes of my future husband. I clear my throat. “Hello, Liam.”
“Hello, Liam,” Sam parrots, hand on my lower back.
“Rutherford.” Liam nods at Sam. Sometimes, I hate that St. A’s is such a small school. Of course he knows Sam. “I didn’t realize you’d be here, Taryn.” He looks between Sam and me. “With Rutherford.”
I shrug. “It’s a girls’ night.” Of course, that doesn’t address Liam’s comment, but my hookup plans aren’t details that should concern him.
At least not yet. I look over his shoulder at the blonde who is pouting in our direction.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight with…
” I motion behind him, not knowing Goldilocks’ name.
“I’m here with my roommate and brother.” He doesn’t address my remark about his little girlfriend.
“You!” My drunk friend comes from nowhere to press a French-tipped finger into the center of Liam’s chest. “I just tried to call you!”
“Hi, Gráinne,” he sighs in return. “Must not have heard my phone.”
She raises her eyebrows but is cut off from responding by her fiancé’s brother. “You’ve been calling McGuiness?” He seems aghast at this news.
She whirls to scowl at him. “Mind your own business, Matt.”
Liam, the dolt, smiles widely. “Hey, you can tell your brother I didn’t answer a single one of her calls. Not any of the dozen times she tried.” He winks conspiratorially at Gráinne.
Matteo glares while my friend gasps. “So you have been ignoring me!”
“What the fuck, Gráinne?” Matteo growls at her, and I have to laugh when she bats her eyelashes in return, before swaying a little and pointing over his shoulder.
“Oh look! Elizabeth found a hot guy to dance with. Maybe she’ll decide to leave with him. Wouldn’t it be great if she found someone who could treat her the way she deserves?” The look in her eyes is devious.
Matteo’s face contorts with rage before he turns on his heel to storm across the dance floor. I know he’s supposed to be looking out for all of us, but he’s taking this protective thing a little too seriously.
“Well played,” Liam congratulates her.
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, now that I have you—”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Liam coos, “you may not have heard, but you’ll never have me now.” He is having way too much fun with this conversation. Is everything a goddamn joke to this guy?
“Very cute,” Gráinne replies.
“Thank you,” he acknowledges. “You look nice too.”
“What in the absolute fuck is happening here?” I can’t take any more. “None of this is funny.”
Liam nods solemnly. “I agree. Why don’t we go somewhere more private and have a conversation?” He puts his hand on my elbow.
“Taryn and I were about to leave,” Sam informs him, pulling me closer to his side. Poor guy still thinks he has a chance at getting lucky tonight. I really owe him an apology.
Liam tracks the motion of Sam’s arm tightening around my waist. He smiles again. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere with you.” He says the words so conversationally, I wonder if I’m imagining the threat behind them. There’s something in Liam’s eyes. Something sharp. Something focused.
Sam drops his arm. He saw it too. Motherfucker.
Gráinne’s hand touches my bicep. “You should go talk to him, Tare. This is your chance.”
“What’s going on?” Sam’s eyes dart between us. It’s impossible not to feel the tension.
Liam shoves his hands in his front pockets and rocks back on his heels. He shrugs at me with a smirk. Waits for me to respond. Jesus.
“Fine,” I bite out. Then, I turn to Sam. “It’s some clan business. I’ll be back.”
“She won’t be,” Liam advises him with a smile, before pressing his hand to the small of my back to guide me away.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I growl at him.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes me forward with a light pressure on my back until I’m being shut into a supply closet. Fantastic. Fuckboy knows where the club has its private spots. What a shocker.
I turn to face him with my arms crossed over my chest. “I don’t want to marry you.” There. Right to the point.
He shrugs in response, a slow roll of his big shoulders. “Okay.” A dimple pops as he says the word.
“Okay? So you’re okay if we don’t get married?” This can’t be so easy.
His eyebrows furrow. “Oh, we’re definitely still getting married.”
“But you just said okay!” I throw my hands up in the air and the bastard laughs. In my face.