Page 50 of Score
The hallway leading to the restrooms is dark and deserted. Under normal circumstances, I would never enter the women’s bathroom, butVerity is running around half naked and drunk. We’re past normal circumstances. I crack the door open.
“Anybody in here?” I call. “I’m looking for a girl. Verity, you in there?”
No response.
Petra said she saw Verity come in. Maybe she snuck out a window? Slipped past Petra’s table?
“Last warning,” I say. “I’m coming in.”
It’s empty. Just to make sure Verity’s not passed out in one of the stalls, I check them all, but I’m alone in here.
“Well, damn,” I mutter, letting the restroom door swing closed behind me. “Guess I could call.”
I dial Verity’s phone, and freeze when “My Cherie Amour” rings from the men’s restroom. My heart speeds ahead of my body and I approach the men’s room stealthily like a wild animal is trapped in there. When I enter the bathroom, Verity’s purse is on the counter and her phone pokes from the top, the screen lit with my incoming call.
“I should answer that,” her voice comes, breathy and slightly slurred, from the stall at the end.
“They’ll leave a message,” a male voice replies.
I push the stall door, and unlocked, it gives under the light press of my hand. The guy has his hand up Verity’s skirt, gripping her ass. Her halter top is down, the flimsy bodice hanging, leaving her naked to the waist. This guy, this stranger, is squeezing my girl’s breast, and for a moment, I can’t breathe; don’t even blink. This must be some kind of waking nightmare.
“Monk,” Verity gasps, but doesn’t move. She doesn’t scramble to cover herself. She doesn’t startle or even look guilty. Our gazes hold, and there’s an odd indifference in hers, like she’s staring at a stranger, not the guy she confessed her love to as she drifted off to sleep.
“You know this guy?” he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder, but not bothering to cover her up or pull his hand from under her dress.
“Yeah.” Verity slumps against the stall and finally fumbles to pull up the bodice of her dress. Her face is smoothed into a mask that tells me nothing, shows me nothing. “That’s my boyfriend.”
“The hell!” He jumps back like her skin is now hot to the touch.
“Don’t move on my account,” I tell him, but I never look away from Verity. “I’m done with her.”
I don’t bother waiting for her to reply or protest or explain or beg me to stay. She was so unbothered by me finding her like that, I’m not sure she would do any of those things anyway. Everything inside urges me to punch him, to knock him on his ass for touching my girl, but the rational part of my mind, the wise part, tells me she’s not worth it. All the shit she pulled tonight—that’s not my girl.
I guess she never really was.
FOURTEEN
Verity
“Get off.” I shove at Carl’s chest, but he doesn’t move.
“Was that really your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” I push him again, this time managing to put space between us.
“You guys got some kind of open arrangement?”
“Uh, no.” I struggle to retie the dress’s halter top. “The opposite.”
“You real calm for a girl who got caught cheating.” He laughs. “But if you ain’t worried about it, I ain’t either.”
The wordcheatingscrapes across my skin so sharply, I’m surprised it didn’t draw blood. Carl squeezes my ass and pulls me close again, his hard dick pressing into my stomach.
“No.” I push him so hard he stumbles back, his head cracking against the open stall door.
“Crazy bitch,” he spits, fury eclipsing the lust from moments ago. “Flashing your pussy and dancing on tables. You lucky I’m the only one in here right now. We all planned to hit it before the end of the night.”
“The hell you did.” I tug my dress down and push past him out of the stall.
