CHAPTER100
Having Jake keep the conversation light and funny helps a lot as he’s a great socializer. He knows how to keep the chatter flowing; he’s attentive and quick-witted and draws everyone in, even the dreaded Marissa. All previous tension is forgotten as we all return to being happy.
He revels in company, and I can imagine what he was like in his teens hanging out with friends. I wish I’d met him then and known what adolescent Jake was like. I imagine he wouldn’t be very different, only younger, maybe with a less powerful physique, less stubble. I doubt he would have liked teenage Emma, though, not his type at all.
The cocktails come regularly, and soon I’m warm and floaty. I manage to carry on a coherent conversation with Leila and Richard despite my swaying; we talk about books and movies, and the more time I spend with this girl, the more I like her.
Jake watches us and smiles, a hint of affection in his eyes. He likes that I like Leila, I guess. For him, I realize, it’s a first, as he’s never seen me warm to women in general, especially not around him. He must think I don’t like my own gender.
Marissa watches me coolly from the other side of the table, flanked by Miracle who looks bored, neither talking unless the men direct conversation their way. I get the impression they don’t like Leila, me, or each other.
Suits me fine. I don’t like Marissa in the slightest, or the hawk-eye way she watches Jake’s every move.
Jake hauls me up to dance when the band comes out, and it’s then that I’m fully aware of how drunk I am. I’m giggling as I try to dance with him, and there’s a lot of him holding me up, keeping me from falling into other people. He’s laughing as he picks me up several times to place me back on my wedge sandals, persevering with my atrocious dancing. Flirty Jake is back now; he’s relaxed with way too much alcohol.
“Your moves are terrible when you’re plastered, shorty.” He spins me around, catching me from the back and pulling me in against him, our hips swaying in time, his firm arms around me snugly. It’s sexy yet still safe. Cuddling, but to music.
“Shhhh. I’m doing just fine,” I slur playfully.
“Sure, you are. The second I let go, you’ll faceplant onto the deck. I’m all that’s keeping you upright,” he laughs softly.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t. You’re exaggerating my drunkenness,” I purr demurely, turning in his arms and giving him a gentle chest-shove in jest. “Let me go and see.”
With a shrug and a mocking smile, Jake lifts his hands and steps back with a ‘know it all’ look on his face, so I attempt a dance step and stumble dramatically.
Crap.
His quick reflexes mean he catches me before I kiss the floor, and he chuckles at me instead, hauling me back to that chiseled chest and hard abdomen to ‘cuddle’.
“You were saying?” he raises a brow.
“Shut up,” I warn, leaning back to throw a threatening finger his way, pointing ridiculously at his nose. “Not another word, Carrero,” I slur.
He mimes the locking of a key over his lips and pretends to throw it away before casting me a wink and pulling me back in for another slow groove, another bout of my terrible balancing act against his body.
After another song, he gives up on our dancing and leads me back to the table with a grin, while I throw a warning look and almost challenge him to mention my drunkenness again. He just laughs, tugging me by the hand and pulling me in so he can lasso me instead.
Back at the table, with Jake practically carrying me with his arm around my waist, the men are in the middle of some animated story. Daniel is sitting on the back of the chair with his feet up on the seat; they’re all laughing and joking about something mid-conversation when we approach, and don’t stop to acknowledge us at all. As we stand there to listen, Jake slides his hand from around my middle and throws it casually around my shoulders instead, resting it on me like it’s the most normal thing in the world, as though we snuggle a lot.
He hands me my drink from the table before taking his beer and turning his full attention to the men. All of them are on their feet now and crowded by one side of the table; Leila is resting in the crook of Richard’s arm gazing up at him adoringly.
I can’t help but stare at Jake’s profile as he listens intently; of all the men here, he’s by far the best looking and most sexually appealing of the group, the whole restaurant, in fact.
I need to stop thinking this way. Bad alcohol, bad!
“Yeah, so Jake’s like, ‘I’m sure we can make it,’ and he goes speeding off on his fucking jet ski, right in. Doesn’t give a fuck.” They all burst out laughing and look toward him as Daniel pats his back. I can’t focus on anything except the way Marissa is watching him. She’s zoned in on his every feature, biting her lip sensually and trying to seduce him with her eyes. My internal mood is churning into irritation as my chest tightens.
What the hell? Whore. So shameless!
It’s obvious she’s a lot more drunk now than she was prior to our going to the dance floor. Jake seems to be avoiding her gaze, but every so often I catch them connect and he flicks away. I feel him physically tense every time, and it alarms me on so many levels.
I want to know what’s going on, if these looks mean anything, if it’s just irritation on his part, or if he has reason to be mad at her. Earlier, I got the distinct impression that he didn’t like her much. But now?"
