EIGHT #3
I rolled my shoulders, the familiar itch for a fight settling in my knuckles. I didn't need backup. “I’m not hitting on her. Pick your boy up and move him, or I’ll do it for you—and I won't be gentle about where he lands.”
“You can try,” Aaron said as he moved forward, but Anderson held him back with one hand against his buddy's puffed-out chest.
Amelie swayed in between us all, a hand to her head, saying.
“I don’t feel so good.” Her words were like water dousing a fire as Anderson and Aaron backed down; their faces suggested neither of them was in it for the long haul: the long haul being holding her hair back that night as she puked up her guts.
The uncertainty of whether the fight was worth it rolled between us, and I pushed my peacekeeper hat on.
“Look, you’re hitting on the wrong girl,” I added, rolling my shoulders and scanning the area for my backup. Who the fuck was Jessa talking to in the middle of my emergency?
Anderson was still eyeing me suspiciously as he took a slug from the whisky bottle he held.
At school, the only guy who matched me in a physical fight one-on-one was Anderson Richards. As captain of my team, pissing him off would also most likely get me benched for the season.
It was then that I realised Amelie was still standing there, staring at me with an adoring expression, like I was her fricking hero or something.
Continuing down that diplomatic path instead of knocking Aaron out, I explained, “Amelie is my stepmother’s niece, dipshit. She’s staying at my house, and so I’m responsible for her.” It would have been wrong to hit him, considering all the shit his family were going through.
Some of the aggressive tension left his face. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh, so I suggest you find another lucky girl to get your dick wet with before I forget about your family problems and add a few of my own to your list,” I suggested, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck from side to side.
He got the message, mouthing a ‘my bad’ as he turned away. I didn’t miss his look of disappointment.
“You could have just said that to start with dickhead,” Anderson grunted before offering me a swig.
I shook my head, replying, “Blow me.”
“Anytime, anywhere, Rook,” he volleyed back with a meaty grin.
I narrowed my eyes as he walked away, clearly amused. Motherfucker knew how to push my buttons.
As I twisted back to Amelie, she wasn’t where I’d left her. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far and was being propped up by Jessa next to the patio steps.
Fucking bitches that couldn’t take their drink.
Jessa shoved her phone into her bag and said, “Tanner’s on his way over with Weston.”
As I touched Amelie’s elbow, she spun around and threaded her arms around my neck. “Do you want to dance?” she asked with a puppy dog look. My annoyance faded slightly.
“You can hardly even stand, princess,” I husked, wrapping my arms around her.
Fuck, her scent was insane—something sweet and floral tangled with the sharp scent of rum. I swallowed hard, my fingers moving automatically to her hips to steady her.
“Good point,” she agreed with a giggle. Amelie then pushed up on her tiptoes and tucked her face into the crook of my neck. “If I fell, would you catch me?”
Jessa took my distraction as a sign to keep partying, turning to dance with another girl I didn’t recognise. They both started to sing, using their fists as microphones.
God give me strength!
“You smell like my brother,” Amelie breathed against my throat.
Fucking great. I totally didn’t care for that comment.
She must have felt me stiffen as she pulled back, her glazed eyes scouring my face.
“It’s a good thing. Adam used to smell lovely.
When he was allowed to use the shower, of course. ”
I took her comment with a pinch of salt, considering she was pissed. Allowed to use the shower? What the hell was that about? I knew the family were not that wealthy, maybe it was a cost of hot water thing?
Amelie then wrapped herself around me again, almost hanging off my shoulders.
I cut a look at Jessa, my expression clear: time to leave as I carefully peeled Amelie’s slim arms from around my neck and lowered her hands.
“Why now?” Jessa said, her eyes wide as she took in how close Amelie and I were standing. “Surely there’s time for one more. It’s not that late. Tanner owes me a dance.”
“You’ve both had enough. We’re going home,” I replied, my comment, forcing Amelie to step back and wrap her arms around her body. The moment brought my attention back to her dress and how good her tight little body looked in it.
And she caught me looking. Her entire face lit up with a triumphant, drunken glow, and she moved back into my personal space, poking an unsteady, accusatory finger into my chest. “You do like my dress: fibber,” she whispered, her voice thick with a cheeky confidence.
Fibber? Really? Some things Amelie said were like she had time-travelled from the olden days?
I rolled my eyes, surrendering with my hands raised. “You got me. Yes. I like your dress, okay? But you’re hammered, and we’re leaving.”
Weston and Tanner then thankfully appeared beside us, their expressions confused.
“At last, where the fuck have you been?” I huffed, dropping my arms.
“Dur, looking for you,” Weston replied, disgruntled.
“Are you OK?” Tanner interrupted, sweeping a look around the space.
Both Jessa and I replied at the same time, not knowing who he was talking to. “Yeah.”
He frowned. “No, I meant, with Aaron Blake. I saw Richards squaring up. It looked like it was going to kick off.”
“Nah, man, they saw sense.” My body jerked as Amelie suddenly slid her fingers around my arm and leaned against me.
My sister stamped her foot suddenly, drawing my confused look from the girl curled against my side.
Jessa had folded her arms across her chest, clearly aggravated that Tanner’s question had not been aimed at her.
“I thought you’d come to check on me after my fight with Jordan?
” Goosebumps swept up my arm as Amelie rested her head against my shoulder.
Tanner reared back slightly at my sister's comment, the muscles in his neck jerking as he swallowed. The waves of annoyance bouncing off my sister were not hard to miss. Weston and I exchanged a look before we both smiled at our friend to say you’re on your own.
“Well, are you OK?”
“Yes, thanks for asking,” Jessa snarked.
Tanner dragged a hand of frustration down his face. “I thought you two were done anyway, so why the hell are you talking to the creep at all?”
“I was thinking of giving him a second chance.”
A group of kids who were in a huddle next to us suddenly surged towards our group, almost knocking Jessa over.
Tanner was in there instantly, his hand on a smaller guy's back, “Watch it, dick!” The smaller man paled and ushered his friends back. That reaction brought Tan closer to Jessa, and I rolled my eyes and shook my head, pointing between them. “Er, that’s not happening.”
“It’s not up to you, Kier,” Jessa snorted.
My sister found body hair revolting, and I felt like telling her that Tanner waxed his chest and his back, but I knew that would have been a low blow.
And then they started to bicker. I turned to Weston with a look of exasperation.
“So, what’s the plan?” Weston shouted over the noise of the party and the couple beside us going at it. We both scanned that sea of bodies all around us. “Fuck, how the hell am I going to get rid of everyone?”
“Why not just leave them to it, ride it out. They’re just little punks.”
“Yes, wasted little punks that are probably going to end the night by peeing in my pool.”
“Could be worse,” I added unhelpfully. Amelie giggled from beside me, now swaying slightly. I pulled her arm out of mine so I could slide my hand around her waist to stop her face-planting.
“We could just shout Police! That worked last year,” Tanner pointed out from the side of me. From the looks of their body language, he and Jessa had agreed to disagree.
West shot him a glare. “Yeah, not the greatest idea, numb-nuts. Last year, my mom’s azaleas got trashed in the panic.
That did not go down well with my old man.
” Azaleas were Weston’s late mother’s favourite flowers, and her ashes were also buried in that same flower bed.
I wondered how he’d react if the punks we were talking about were to pee over those, as per my point about his pool-peeing comment; it could be worse.
“Just start telling people to leave. Halo and Lacey can help, Nancy and James too. I’m sorry, man, but I can’t stay. I need to get the girls back,” I informed them just as Weston’s eyes snagged on Halo. She was on the other side of the speaker system, dancing with some rando.
Oh dear.
West made a move, but I grabbed his shoulder. “It’s not the time, brother, start rounding people up.”
After his squabble with Jessa, Tanner had switched to sensible mode. It wasn’t a side you saw often. “OK. You get the girl’s home. I’ll stay here and help West,” he suggested.
“I’m going home with Jordan,” Jessa declared with her stubborn expression, earning a ‘no, you’re not’ from both Tanner and me at the same time.
Affronted, she glared, his eyes yo-yoing back and forth. “What? I’m not ready to leave yet.” Her hands were on her hips.
“If you think you’re staying here with Jordan the twat, you can think again.”
“It’s not up to you, Tanner. What’s wrong, Ellie Piper riding someone else tonight, and so you have to spoil everyone else's fun?”
“I never fucking touched her!”
“Like I give a shit.” Jessa so clearly did, but I didn’t have time to analyse if something more serious was going on between them behind my back.
“Time out!” West belted.
Tanner dashed a hand down his face, frustration rolling off him in waves at my sister’s unaccommodating behaviour. “You take Amelie. I’ll catch an Uber with Jessa and drop her off on my way home.” I didn’t miss the shimmer of victory that flashed over my sister's features.
“Help West what?” Weston bit out, having a proper strop.