I feel his shove come from behind, and I falter a few steps in her direction, catching my balance with my arms stretched out on both walls. She sighs heavily, handing her drink to her friend.
“Carson, knock it off! What are you doing?” she says, looking around me. Her hands are on her hips while she confronts her unleashed boyfriend.
“I’m telling sandwich boy here to keep his hands off of what’s mine!” he yells. Out of everything he says, sandwich boy is actually what pisses me off the most. I spin around quickly, catching him by complete surprise, and punch him squarely in the nose. The blood comes fast. I shake my hand at my side, and flex my fingers. That felt both good and really fucking terrible at the same time.
“She is not your property, asshole! And you’re way out of line. I’ve barely talked to her tonight…in fact, ever! So if you could just get the hell out of my way, I’d like to go take a piss now,” I say, pointing to the men’s room door behind him. There’s blood on my shirt, and that ticks me off, too. I have, like, four really nice shirts, and this is one of them. I hate this guy!
“Then why am I getting texts all night from people telling me you and her have a thing going? This one had these pictures, of you and her meeting up at the library.” He’s holding the phone out, like I can actually make out a postage-stamp sized photo from six feet away…after taking a few punches.
“Let me see your phone,” Paige says, brushing past me. Carson pulls it away at first, but she grabs his wrist and jerks the phone from him. He doesn’t fight her, but he looks at her with such contempt, I almost want to punch him again for no reason. Or maybe she is my reason. Why am I so involved in this?
“Who sent you this?” she asks, and Carson bunches his brow, pulling his eyes in and shaking his head.
“I don’t know, but I’ve gotten six or seven of them, just in the last half hour,” he says, grabbing the phone back from her to slide to another photo. He hands it back and she taps on his screen, her lips moving as she says the number. She takes over, tapping on his phone more, and holding her hand up when he reaches in to stop her. Putting the phone on her ear, she cups the other side so she can hear clearly. After a few seconds, her eyes close. She shuts the phone, and hands it back to him, shoving it at his chest, then turns to walk away. Her eyes catch me as she passes. For a split second, I think she’s telepathically apologizing for all of this.
“Hey!” Carson yells. I don’t turn to him, instead keeping my eyes on her. She downs the rest of her drink and hands her glass back to the girl standing next to her, then adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, never acknowledging the shouts coming from the guy who thinks he owns her.
“I said hey!” he shouts again, and I can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s embarrassed that she’s ignoring him. Paige is incredibly calm, smoothing out the back of her dress, pulling it lower on her legs, careful to make sure she’s still covered. She may be hot, but she’s also a lady. I think that’s what I notice most. She whispers something to the girl standing by her, then takes a few steps toward the bar, toward the exit. “Hey, you stupid bitch!”
That one gets her. It gets me too, and I flex my raw fingers, testing the burn of my knuckles, readying my arm to let this guy feel something that will stick with him well into tomorrow. I don’t take my eyes away from Paige though. She stops on her heels and turns slowly, brushing her long, blond curls from her shoulders and raising one brow at him in question as she meets his eyes.
“Who the hell was that? Who did you call? And where the hell do you think you’re going?” His intoxication is picking up steam, his words linking together to form new words. Paige leaves her eyes on him for several long seconds, and the hallway around us grows quiet, waiting for whatever she could possibly say to this insensitive asswipe. I’m pretty sure we’re all rooting for her to make him look like a fool.
“That—” she lowers her eyes to his phone, still clutched in his hands, “is my problem, and has nothing to do with you. And as for where I’m going, I’m going home.”
“You can’t just…what…leave? Fuck that, you owe me some answers. Who the fuck is this guy? And what the hell’s going on between you two?” Carson asks, still trying to show his control, as if he ever had it.
Paige starts laughing before he even finishes speaking, and by the time he’s done, she’s laughing out loud, her shoulders rising and falling, her arms once again crossed in front of her body—everything about her is calm.