Page 54 of Fight For Me

I narrow my eyes at him. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened in my room, would it? Because I told you I handled it.”

His gaze shoots over to Scott, who’s complimenting Everly now, his stupid leering eyes on her legs. Wyatt’s jaw tenses. “I fucking hate that guy.”

“He’s not my favorite, either. But that doesn’t mean Everly and I need a babysitter. You don’t have to come out clubbing.”

He looks down at me, and it suddenly occurs to me that we’re standing much closer together than usual. I can actually feel the warmth of his breath skating across the skin of my face. It’s everything I can do not to shudder in pleasure. Why in the hell does he still affect me like this?

“You don’t want me to come?” he asks, his voice low. Husky. I swallow, trying not to show how affected I am by his nearness.

“I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to feel like youhaveto.”

He doesn’t respond, which pretty much tells me everything I need to know about his plans for the evening. He isn’t coming to have fun with his cousins. He certainly isn’t coming to spend time with me. He’s only joining us because of his stupid sense of duty. Whatever promises he might have made about not babysitting us when he first moved in, it couldn’t be more clear that he’s here because he doesn’t think we can handle it on our own.

My shoulders slump, a wave of disappointment flowing over me. Which is stupid—this isn’t new information. I’ve known since the day he moved in that Wyatt isn’t here for me. A few nights sitting around knitting together isn’t going to change that.

“Alex?” he asks, voice concerned. “What’s wrong?”

I force myself to relax, force my lips to turn up in a smile. The point of going out tonight is to have fun with my best friends and provide some good footage for the show. Wyatt Warner and his stupid gorgeous face have nothing to do with it.

“I’m fine.” I don’t meet his eyes as I turn away to face the group. “Let’s get out of here,” I say brightly. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to dance.”

Everly and Bodhi let out loud cheers. Fox throws his arm around my shoulder, grinning at me. “I love it when Party Alex comes out to play.”

I can feel Wyatt’s eyes on my back as we leave the condo, but I refuse to turn around.

Wyatt

Iam a stupid, stupid man.

I should have known that coming out with them was a terrible idea. This club is so not my scene. It’s not that I’m opposed to dancing. Or having a few drinks. What I don’t like is the atmosphere here. It’s pretentious as fuck. This club is clearly the kind of LA place I’ve always despised—popular just because it’s exclusive, the type of place where people go to see and be seen, to try to get a little closer to the rich, famous, and beautiful. Everything about it feels shallow and pathetic to me. And the cameras trained in our direction means that all the social climbers in the place have their eyes on us.

I feel like the grumpy old man scowling at everyone from the corner. And the fact that half the guys in this place are checking out Alex while she’s dancing isn’t helping.

“Dude.” River gives me an exasperated look as he slides into the booth next to me. The crew has us set up at a table in the roped off VIP section. The booths up here are made of purple velvet—how anyone thought this shit looks cool is beyond me.

“Are youtryingto be a buzzkill?” he continues. “Or is it just your natural state of being?”

I ignore the dig. “What are you even doing here? The last time I saw you, you had your tongue down that girl’s throat at the bar.” I glance over to see her still standing there, a hungry look on her face as she eyes my cousin. “A cheetah print mini-dress, River? Seriously?”

He grimaces. “I thought I might be able to overlook her bad fashion sense because of how hot she is.”

“And how’d that work out for you?”

His grimace turns to a scowl. “I was just about to ask her if she wanted to find some place more private when she told me I was ‘almost as gorgeous’ as my dad.”

I wince. “Shit. Sorry, man.” We’ve all gotten that kind of crap over the years. I’ve been able to avoid a lot of it, since my last name isn’t Ransome, but high school was still filled with people eager to use me to get close to our famous parents. I think it’s probably worse for River because he looks so much like Daltrey.

“Ah, what are you going to do,” he says, reaching for the bottle of whiskey on the table and pouring himself a healthy measure. “I could get pissy about the fact that my dad is one of the most famous men in the industry.” He raises the glass in my direction. “Or I can enjoy the fact that his fame is what has me sitting in the VIP section drinking two-hundred-dollar whiskey.”

I can tell that the experience upset him more than he’s letting on, but an ugly velvet booth in the middle of a loud club isn’t really the best place for a heart-to-heart, so I let it go and clink my glass against his.

“What about you?” he asks. “Why are you looking so grumpy over here by yourself?”

Without meaning to, my eyes go to the girls dancing in the middle of a throng of partiers. Alex and Everly are mostly ignoring everyone around them—particularly the guys—and dancing together, arm in arm. The club is hosting some kind of retro theme tonight and Everly is singing along to Destiny’s Child right in Alex’s face, who keeps throwing her head back in laughter.

“Not really my scene.”

River’s eyes follow mine out to the dance floor. “Ah,” he says. “I see.”