Both of us were relieved by the change of subject. “I’m looking for Weston. Have you seen him?”
“Yes.” Her brows pulled together. “I think…yes. He was on the sofas in the chillout area when I saw him.”
“Thanks.”
Leaving her outside the bar, I weaved my way through the crowds to the very back of the huge space where groups of sofas were arranged against the wall, packed full of people. My body turned on instinct, the pull of him so strong that it led me to him like a homing beacon.
I sucked in a shocked breath, all the air leaving my lungs as I saw him sprawled on the furthest sofa, next to a couple of girls who thankfully seemed more interested in talking to each other. His glazed eyes were ringed with dark circles. In one hand he gripped a cup, beer sloshing out of the side as he balanced it on the arm of the chair. The other hand rested on the back of the sofa. I watched, suddenly rooted to the spot as a gorgeous girl with wavy blonde hair swung herself into his lap and his arm came down from the back of the sofa to snake around her waist.
Everything happened at once.
Maybe I wasn’t thinking straight, but I had unfinished business with Weston Cavendish, and I wasn’t about to let another girl fool around with him, not until he’d heard what I’d come to tell him. I stalked over to them, gripping the girl’s arms and pulling her from Weston’s lap.
Her eyes widened as she took in the expression on my face, and she swallowed nervously.
Releasing my grip, I waited until her eyes met mine, and then I spoke, carefully enunciating every word so there would be no misunderstanding.
“He’s off limits.”
She stared at me for a moment, before mumbling something about not wanting to be in the middle of drama, then disappeared into the crowds. That dealt with, I turned to Weston.
He stared at me, expressionless.
“West?”
“Leave me alone.” His words were low and toneless.
“No.” I stepped between his parted thighs.
“Leave me alone,” he repeated, lifting the cup in his hands to his lips.
“Never.”
“I don’t want you here, Lena. We have nothing to say to each other.”
His words sliced through me, but I’d expected them, so I was prepared.
“Too bad. I’m not leaving.”
“Fucking go.” He lifted the cup again, and I knocked it from his hand. I ignored the shriek of surprise from the girl sitting next to him as the cold liquid splashed on her legs. That was the least of my concerns.
“I’m not leaving until you speak to me.”
He finally raised his gaze to meet mine, half-lidded and glassy, and I stumbled backwards at the look in his eyes. Oh. He was still angry. Really, really angry. Underneath the anger, though, I could see the hurt and confusion, and that killed me.
I crouched down in front of him. Tentatively, I reached out and placed a hand on his thigh. He stiffened but didn’t push me away, which was something, at least.
“Need another drink,” he slurred, his head falling back. “I can’t deal with you right now.”
“West, please.”
“Just fucking leave me alone.” He closed his eyes.
Right.
Rising to my feet, I took him in, leaning back on the sofa all dark and sexy, tension thrumming through his body despite the amount of alcohol he’d clearly ingested.
Then, I turned my back and walked away.
Only as far as the bar. I had to get him to listen to me somehow.
When I returned, I handed him a large plastic cup brimming with a clear liquid. “Drink this.”
Surprisingly, he took it from me. Tipping it to his lips, he took a large gulp, then grimaced. “What the fuck is this?”
“Water. Drink it.”
I could’ve sworn a growl came from his throat, as he levelled me with a dark look. But he downed the rest of the water, then threw the cup into the crowd.
Standing in front of him, I eyed him carefully. He’d stopped telling me to leave, but now he was acting like I wasn’t even here. I’d never seen him like this before, and I honestly didn’t know what to do.
Fuck it. Stepping forwards, I straddled him, sinking down onto his thighs.
His hard muscles tensed underneath my legs. “Get off me.”
“No.”
“You’ve done enough. I don’t want you here, Mercury,” he practically snarled.
Yep. He was seriously pissed off with me. “Too bad. I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came here to say.”
“Leave me the fuck alone.” He lifted me off him and climbed to his feet, staggering away through the crowd. As if I was going to let him get away from me that easily. I stalked through the crush of bodies in the direction of the doors.
When I reached the outside of the building, I stopped dead when I saw him leaning against the wall. He blinked a few times, finally focusing on my face, his eyes clearer at last. Hopefully the fresh air and the water had helped. “Go on, then. Say whatever it was you wanted to say.”
“Can we get a coffee first? I think we need to sober up. By we, I mean you. You need to stop trying to chase your problems away with alcohol.”
He snorted at that. “Whatever.”
I stared at him, arms folded across my chest, until he gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll grab one from the machine.”
A few minutes later, he returned with two coffee cups in his hand, one of which he handed to me wordlessly.
A tiny ember of hope lit inside me. And when I tasted the slightly bitter, chocolatey flavour of my favourite mocha, the hope flared.
We sipped our coffees in silence, walking in the direction of the car park. “Where do you want to talk?” I ventured, stopping close to my car.
He shrugged, not answering.
“Okay, here is good, then.” I hopped up onto the low stone wall that ran down the side of the car park. He stood, facing me, wariness in his deep aquamarine eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I began to relay my story, explaining why I’d reacted the way I had to him. I didn’t stumble, I didn’t falter—I needed to make him understand. His expression morphed from shock, to horror, to anger, to disbelief, and by the time I’d finished speaking, he was leaning against the wall next to me, breathing heavily and gripping the stone so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Fucking hell,” he said shakily. His eyes met mine, wide and distressed. “How could you have let me touch you at all?”
I shook my head, the sudden lump in my throat leaving me unable to answer.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry.” He lifted his arm as if to touch me, but hesitated and let it fall to his side.
That small movement broke me, and the tears that I’d been able to hold at bay gathered in my eyes.
Without knowing it, he continued to twist the knife. “I think it’s better that we don’t see each other for a while,” he said in a low mutter.
I broke a little bit more. The thing was? He was probably right. “Okay.” My voice came out as a whisper. “And, West, for what it’s worth, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was Mercury.”
“No. We’re not talking about this now.” He shook his head emphatically, then released his death grip on the wall and began to back away from me. “Get in the car. Text Winter or Cass as soon as you get home.” A heavy breath escaped him as he lifted his hand, and the moment felt final. “Bye, Lena.”