I thought for a moment. I thought of how Harlow had become my everything and how it terrified me. Of how I didn’t think I deserved her. That I’d spent so long being the bad guy, I wasn’t sure I knew how to be the good guy.
When I’d kissed her it had felt so right and so wrong at the same time. Because I thought she deserved better. But at the end of the day the terror of losing her was worse than any feelings of inadequacy I felt. I would rather spend a lifetime of feeling inadequate than the misery of living without her.
“Because she doesn’t want me,” I said quietly. “And rightfully so, because I could live a million fucking years and never be good enough for her.”
“You’re wrong, Heath. Don’t sell yourself so short.” A small smile curled at Bridget’s lips. “She may not know it. You may not know it. But that girl is a hundred and fifty percent crazy in love with you.”
My eyes shot to hers. “What do you mean? She’s leaving in a few—”
“Pfft!” Bridget waved off my comment. “One word from you and that girl isn’t going anywhere.”
Her words shot some well-needed heat into my heart. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt the warmth of sunshine and all that gooey stuff you heard about when people described what it was like to be in love.
Was it possible I had a chance with her?
“You really think so?” I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded.
She nodded and smiled.
“I do. So you’d better go and tell her exactly how you feel before this gets any more complicated than what the two of you have already made it.”
* * * * *
HARLOW
The night was going from bad to worse. As the club filled with people and we had less and less room to move, Dean made every opportunity to stand close and touch me. At one point he even started to rub his fingers up and down my arm as we waited at the bar for a drink.
To get away from his hands-on approach to our evening, I escaped to the bathroom and sat in the cubicle, desperately trying to come up with an exit strategy. I would need to remind him that this wasn’t a date … but how many times did I have to do that?
I was desperate to ring Heath. To ask him to pick me up. To ask him to be my friend again.
God I was pathetic.
Back in the bar the night went from bad to worse, as the alcohol he consumed took effect and Dean became more and more handsy.
When I reproached him, he would flash that million-dollar smile and throw his hands up in jest like it was all a big joke.
To take the edge off, I started on the shots and totally misjudged my tolerance levels.
Dean, however, seemed to appreciate me letting my guard down and I began to wonder if he was trying to get me drunk. He lined up a row of shots for us to do. I didn’t know what they were, only that they were better if you didn’t taste them going down.
When I picked up my last shot, Heath suddenly swooped in and removed the shot glass from between my fingers.
“Hey—” I protested.
“She isn’t used to alcohol, asshole,” he seethed at Dean.
Even in my drunken haze the sight of him set off fireworks throughout my body.
“Relax Heath, she’s an adult,” Dean said calmly.
“She’s nineteen. She’s not even legal!”
“Maybe not for Tequila.” Dean said, his eyes twinkling lasciviously as they rolled over my breasts.
Heath breathed in deeply, squeezing his eyes closed. I knew he was fighting an urge to thump Dean. Even in my inebriated state I could see the thin restraint on his face.
Instead, he turned his back on Dean to face me.
“You’re drunk Harlow. I’m taking you home before you pass out.” He went to help me up from my stool but I clumsily pushed him away and almost fell over before he caught me in his strong arms.
Dean stood up. “I’ll take her home.”
Heath shot him a murderous look. “She’s drunk. She isn’t going anywhere with you.”
“Back off Heath,” Dean warned.
Heath plopped me back on the stool and swung around. He was taller and far more imposing than Dean.
“Listen to me you asshole, I know what you’re doing but it ain’t gonna happen. Trying to get her drunk enough so you can talk her out of her clothes?” He leaned in close, his voice dangerously low. “I should beat the hell outta you for trying.”
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Any time you wanna try, pretty boy.”
Suddenly I felt woozy and the world began to spin.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I slurred.
Without hesitation Heath scooped me up and had me outside before I knew it. As soon as the night air blasted me, I threw up everything in my stomach.
Heath held me around my hips with one hand so I didn’t fall over, while his other hand held my hair back.
When the convulsions finally stopped, I steadied myself against him.
“I’m okay,” I murmured, a little unsure if that was true. Then remembering Dean was still inside I gave Heath an unsteady push. “I’m going back in.”
He held me tighter. “I don’t think so, Harlow. The only place you’re going is home.”
A second attempt at pushing him was equally ineffective—I was no match for those arms.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I complained.
“I can when you have more alcohol in your veins than plasma.” He tried steering me away from the entrance of the club but I was able to shake him free.
“Let me go.” I wobbled on my high heels and shakily straightened my dress. “Don’t you have some girl to go stick your dick into?”
Heath’s eyebrows shot up but quickly evened out. “Right now I’m pretty busy trying to make sure you get home safely.”
“I’m not going home!”
“Yes you are.”
I tried to walk back towards the club but Heath stepped in my way.
Drunk, frustrated and a little bit pissed at him for being such a jerk, I thrust my palms into his chest to push him back. He didn’t budge.
“Get out of my way, you jerk!”
“If you think I’m gonna let you go back in there and get violated by that asshole, then you’re crazy.”
“He’s not an asshole. He’s hot!” I snapped, trying unsuccessfully to focus.
“You’re more drunk than I thought,” he mumbled.
Wobbling unsteadily on my heels, I said, “Where do you get off trying to tell me what to do? You don’t even like me the way you like other girls.”
I swayed and Heath grabbed my arms to steady me.
“Those may be the truest words you’ve said since opening your mouth,” he said evenly.
If I had been sober I may have felt slightly offended. But full of tequila and ridiculously drunk, his words stung me deeply. It made me feel so inadequate in comparison. Obviously, I wasn’t good enough for him like his hordes of admirers were. Or all the other girls he made scream.
Hating how I felt, I pushed him in the chest again. “You’re such a player—”
The next thing I knew, Heath lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” I yelled, wriggling my legs and slapping his back.
He ignored me and just kept walking.
“I’m. Not. Kidding,” I cried.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Heath lilted.
When he put me down we were next to his sexy sleek Challenger and Heath was bundling me into the passenger seat.
“Just so you know H-bomb, if you puke in it, you clean it. Got it?”
Before I could process the thought in my punch-drunk brain, he was beside me in the driver’s seat and the engine roared to life. My head lolled to the side as the lights of the city blurred past.
“Just for the record, I want you to know I am not drunk,” I slurred.
He glanced sideways. “Just for the record, I want you to know that you are fall-down drunk.”
My head lolled about and rested to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, the defined line of his chiseled jaw sharpened in the street light.
Goddamn it he’s hot, I thought before rolling my head to the side and passing out.