Chapter Five

I didn’t wait for him to help me. I shoved his hand off my arm, my skin buzzing where he’d touched me, and found my own footing.

“Do you have a habit of always being in the way?” I snapped back. I straightened my dress, trying to regain some shred of confidence I’d faked in the car.

“Maybe I just like watching you trip, Drama Queen,” he drawled, his voice dropping into the low, sandpaper territory that always made my stomach do a sick flip.

“It’s the only time you are quiet.”

He stepped closer, his shadow completely swallowing me up. His eyes flickered to my hairline, where my messy updo was struggling to hide my bruise.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch. I just rolled my eyes, a sharp, dismissive movement that made my head throb. “Go find a puck to hit, Noah. I’m bored.”

I didn’t wait for a comeback. I spun on my heel, the hem of my black gown swishing against my thighs as I marched toward the kitchen bar.

The kitchen was a blur of noen lights and the smell of spilled gin. I slammed my head down on the countertop, catching the attention of the guy pouring drinks.

“Five shots of tequila,” I commanded, my voice ice cold. “Hot. And don’t skimp on the lime.”

The guy didn’t even blink—he’d probably seen a dozen girls tonight trying to drink away their problems. Five glasses slid across the counter, the liquid shimmering like liquid gold under the dim lights.

I grabbed the first one, the salt stinging my tongue before the burn of the alcohol scorched its way down my throat. I needed to go numb. I needed to drown the image of Noah’s smirk and the weight of the lie I was telling Zion.

The second shot went down easier than the first, a searing trail of fire that started to dull the sharp edges of my anxiety. By the third, the thumping bass of the music didn’t feel like it was attacking my skull anymore; it felt like it was part of me.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw Noah. I grabbed the fourth glass, my fingers feeling a little clumsy now. The salt was messy, sticking to my lip, but I didn’t care. I downed it in one jagged gulp.

I reached for the fifth glass, my hand trembling just enough to make the liquid slosh against my rim. My vision was starting to go soft.

Just as my fingers brushed the glass, a hand clamped down over mine.

“Woah, woah, woah! Okayyy, absolutely not,” Xalia voiced sliced through the haze. She was suddenly there, her eyes wide as she looked at the 4 empty glass.

“Khi, what are you doing? You’ve been here for ten minutes!”

“I’m………..I’m fine, X,” I slurred, trying to drag my hand back. The room already fuzzy. My hip against the bar to keep from sliding off the earth. “Just need to….clear my head. Or drown it. Whichever comes first.”

“You not clearing anything, you are currently vibrating,” she muttered, sliding the 5th shot out of my reach And handing it back to the bartender. She turned me around by my shoulders, her grip firm and grounding. “Khi, look at me. Your eyes are literally swimming. How about we go sit down before we do something we both lie about tomorrow.”

“I am already lying about everything,” I whispered, the alcohol making the truth want to spill out of my throat like lava. “What’s one more.”

Xalia’s expression softened that look of pity I hated. “Come on, Drama Queen. Let’s get you some air and seated before Zion finds you like this.”

She didn’t wait for me to argue. Xalia steered me through the sea of sweating bodies, her hand firm on my waist as I navigated the room like a glitchy video game character. Every time the bass dropped, my knees buckled just a little, but she caught me.

“Sit,” she commanded, pushing me down onto a velvet armchair in a corner that was slightly less deafening.

I sank into the cushions, my head falling back. The ceiling was spinning slow, lazy circles. “I feel like….like I am made of statics,” I mumbled, closing my eyes.

“You are made of eighty-proof bad decisions,” Xalia shot back, though she was already handing me a bottle of water she snatched from a passing tray. “Drink. All of it.”

Before she could dash into a lecture, her phone vibrated in her hand. She glanced at the screen—it was her boyfriend.

“I have to take this, he’s outside,” she said, looking torn between me and the door. She pointed her finger at me, dead serious. “Khi, stay. Do not move from this chair. Drink that water, or I am calling your mom.”

I just nodded, my head feeling like it was filled with heavy cotton. “Stay. Got it.”

The second she disappeared into the crowd, the word stay evaporated from my brain. It didn’t even bother to find a seat in my ears. I looked at the bottle water like it was an enemy and set it down on the floor, the plastic clinking under the loud bass. I didn’t want water; I wanted the ground to stop tilting.

I forced myself up, my legs feeling like they were made of jelly. I had destination, just a desperate need to not be here. I took three stumbling steps, the room blurring into a messy smear of neon and shadows. My heel caught on the edge of a rug, and the floor rushed up to meet me.

I braced for the impact, but it never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms locked around my waist, pulling my back flush against a hard, solid chest. The scent of winter air and expensive soap hit me before I opened my eyes.

“You really don’t need to keep hurting yourself just to get my attention, Khione,” Noah’s voice rasped against the shell of my ear.

His breath was warm, a sharp contrast to the icy chill that usually followed him. He didn’t let go; instead, his grip tightened, his thumb grazing the ribs just under my chest.

“I’m already watching,” he whispered, his tone dangerously low and far too flirty for a guy who was supposed to be my night mare. “I haven’t looked away once.”

My heart was racing and for a split second, my brain completely short-circuited; I couldn’t tell if the heat was radiating from his chest was real or the tequila finally reached my nervous system. The alcohol definitely wasn’t helping—it turned my coordination into a joke and made the room tilt until the floor felt like a vertical wall.

“Get….get off me!” I finally managed to gasp, my voice thick and jagged.

I shoved his forearm with everything I had left, my hands feeling like they were made of lead. I managed to stumble forward, the sudden distance making my head lurch unpleasantly. I spun around to face him, my chest heaving and my eyes struggling to focus on those blue eyes of his that seemed too steady for a room this chaotic.

“Don’t touch me, Noah,” I snapped, though I knew I sounded more desperate than dangerous. “I don’t want your attention. I don’t want anything from you.”

He let out a short, dry laugh, his eyes scanning my face—probably taking in the messy lipstick and the way I had to keep one hand on the wall just to stand.

“God, you such a light drinker, Drama Queen,” he teased, his tone shifting back to that classic bully arrogance. “It hasn’t even been up to 30 minutes and you already vibe rating out of your skin.”

“Shut up, Noah,” I spat. I tried to push past him, my shoulder clipping his as I aimed for the exit, but the room decided to do a full 360. The floor felt like it was made of liquid, and my knees completely gave out.

For the third time tonight, his hands were on me, catching me before I could taste the carpet. He didn’t just steady me this time; he hauled me upright, his grip firm.

“That’s it. You are sitting back down,” he muttered, starting to steer me toward the corner Xalia had left me.

“Noooooooo!!” I shrieked. I dug my heels in, which was a mistake because I almost tripped over again. “I want more. I want…….more alcohol.”

Noah stopped, looking down at me in disbelief and that sharp, mocking edge. “Look at yourself, Khione. You already look like shit and you barely being here for 30 minutes. You can’t even stand straight.”

“And so?” I challenged. “Who cares? It’s my life.”

“And so no. The fuck?” He snapped, his jaw tightening. “You are done!”

A reckless, drunken spark flared my chest. I leaned toward him, my hand catching the lapel of his shirt to keep me from falling. “How about this? We play a game. A bet.”

Noah arched a dark eyebrow, his eyes tracking the way I was clinging to him. “A bet?”

“Yeahhh,” I slurred, a messy smirk pulling at my lips. “If I win, I get more tequila. If I lose….I’ll listen to you. I’ll go sit down and be a good little “Drama Queen.” Deal?”

Noah eyes darkened, dropping from my face to the way my fingers were brunched on his shirt. He didn’t pull away, if anything, he leaned closer, his presence heavy. A slow dangerous smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth—the kind that told me he knew exactly how lopsided this bet was.”

“A bet,” he repeated, his voice dropping low. A flirty rasp that felt like velvet against my skin. “I do like a challenge, Khione. Especially when it involves seeing the look on your face when you loose.”

He straightened up, his hand still firm on my waist. “Fine, I’m in. What game, Drama Queen? Name your poison.”

I hummed, the sound vibrating in my throat. I blinked, trying to focus my eyes on anything besides his sharp jawline. I looked past his shoulder, scanning the living room until my eyes landed on a long folding table near the window. A group of hockey guys were hooting, surrounded by a sea of red plastic cups.

I pointed a shaky finger toward the noise. “That one. Cup pong.”

Noah lets out a dry laugh, his chest vibrating against my arm. “You want to play pong? Against me? Khoine, you can barely see the table, let alone a target the size of a cup.”

“Scared, Graves?” I challenged, my voice tilting up with a drunken bravado. I tugged on his lapel, pulling him down to my level. “Or are you worried the “Drama Queen is going to outplay the star athlete.”

His expression shifted, the mockery turning into something sharper, more focused. He reached up, his fingers grazing my jaw for a split second before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ears, his touch lingering near the bruises he knew was there.

“Not scared,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. “Just making sure you are ready for the consequences when you loose. Because I don’t play fair, and I definitely don’t let my prize go easily.”