Page 52 of Fight For Me

“We’re going to a fancy restaurant and then aclub,” she corrects. “We need to dress this up a little.”

“Everly—”

But she’s already tugging on his arm. He shoots me a pleading look over his shoulder as she drags him out of my bathroom. I shrug at him. He should know by now that there’s no stopping her when she sets her mind on something.

Luckily, Geri follows them out, leaving my room blessedly camera free. Finally.

I shut the door behind them, resting my forehead on the smooth wood and allow myself a deep breath. Wyatt went over to Will’s last night to watch some movies, and ended up staying over after a few drinks. Apparently, I’ve become more dependent on our knitting sessions than I realized, because I didn’t sleep a wink. I’m exhausted, the kind of tired that settles deep in my bones and makes even the most basic activities seem impossible

I know I should make an appointment with my doctor. It hasn’t been this bad in a few years. But what is he going to tell me? It’s not like there’s some miracle sleeping pill I don’t know about. He’ll do yet another sleep study, remind me about all the stress relief and sleep hygiene bullshit I already do, and tell me my best option is to take meds, even if that means going home to do it.

And the last thing I want to do is go home. It will only worry my parents. And then they’ll start to wonder if I can actually handle living on my own.

Still, if I don’t sleep tonight I’m not going to have any choice but to go over there tomorrow. I can’t handle another day like this. Maybe I can convince my mom that I just want a girls’ sleepover. Or tell them that I’m missing Nix or—

A knock on the other side of the door has me jerking back. “Alex? You in there, babe?”

It’s Scott’s voice. I shake myself a little, trying to get it together. “I’m almost ready,” I call, glad to hear that my voice sounds relatively normal.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh…” I don’t really like the idea of him being in my bedroom, but my brain is feeling too scattered to come up with a decent refusal. So instead, I open the door and step back, allowing him to pass through.

He gives me a broad smile, eyes going up and down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “You look gorgeous, babe,” he says, and I do my best not to roll my eyes at his stereotypical Hollywood producer schtick.

“Thanks.”

“You excited about tonight? This club is supposed to be lit.”

The eye roll urge intensifies. “I am.” I lie. All I want to do is put my PJs on and get in bed. But I force a smile for the guy who currently controls my career. “I haven’t been dancing in forever.”

He scans me again, slower this time, the smile on his face shifting to a leer. “I bet you look great on a dance floor.”

I want to tell him to kindly go fuck himself, and get the hell out of my room while he’s at it. But this isn’t my first run-in with a flirting creep. So instead I plaster a brighter forced smile on my face, call him a flirt in my best teasing voice, and manage to slip around him towards my escape before he can so much as take a step in my direction.

Then I stop in my tracks, because Wyatt is standing in the doorway, glowering at the two of us. “Hey.” I shift on my heels, somehow more uncomfortable now than I was when alone with creepy Scott. “I didn’t think you were home.”

His eyes are locked on a spot behind my shoulder—probably right on Scott, if his clenched jaw is any indication. “Just got back,” he says tightly, still glaring behind me. “Go out to the living room, Alex.”

I roll my eyes at his bossy tone. “You can come with me.” I grab his arm and attempt to push him through the doorway.

“I think I’ll stay right here,” he growls. “I have a few things to say to Scott.”

“Please spare me your alpha male bullshit,” I say in a low voice so only he can hear me. “I handled it fine.”

He finally tears his eyes away from Scott and looks at me. My breath catches at the fire I see in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have to handle it,” he says fiercely.

“But I did. So let’s get out of this room so I can say hi to George before I have to leave.” I tug on his arm again. “We should probably check on Fox anyhow. Everly was dressing him—for all we know she’s got him wearing leopard print leather pants or something.”

He doesn’t laugh, but his features do soften slightly and the next time I tug on his arm, he lets me. I look over my shoulder as we leave the room, catching Scott’s eye. There’s something in his gaze I don’t like at all. Something calculating and cold.

I try to push the sudden unsettled feeling away as I follow Wyatt out to the living room. Luckily the scene there is distracting—River and Bodhi must have both arrived while I was in my room because Bodhi is currently laying on his back on the floor with his head next to George, snapping selfies of the two of them together while River shakes his head. “How many dog selfies do you need, dude?”

“This is for the ‘gram, man,” Bodhi argues, still snapping away. “Animals always get a lot of likes.”

“Bodhi, you have like twelve followers on Instagram,” River points out, smirking. “I don’t think anyone is going to give a shit about your dog selfie.”

Bodhi gasps. “That’s the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me. I happen to havefiftyfollowers, thank you very much. I’m on the verge of influencer status. Just you wait.”