Before You Go

Part 3

Before You Go

"Don't you think you're taking things a bit too far over a tacky shirt? " I instinctively shirk back from the tall brunette's hand, my back connecting with a sturdy chest.

Could things get any worse?  I follow the sound of the voice that'd spoken, only to regret my decision a second later as I stare up at the stranger I'd noticed five minutes earlier.

Rather than paying attention to his vise hold on the brunette who'd almost slapped me. I'm enacted by his eyes. By the bland interest in them that sends a cold shiver down my back. 

Apparently things can get worse. The thought pings in my head as slowly but surely I notice half of the people near the front door are watching us.

Their glassy but intrigued eyes anticipating a bit of action to satisfy their easily entertained minds.
Wanting a better view of myself and the two people I'm bracketed by, one of the beer-pongers leans over the sofa like deflated balloon.

"Butt out, Xavier," the brunette jabs my unexpected rescuer in the shoulder with a manicured finger. "I doubt the midget here needs you to rescue her."

Like a deer caught in headlights, my focus remains on the stranger who now has a name.
His well proportioned body slim but athletic
while his slightly unruly hair makes me wonder what'd it'd be like to tangle my fingers into the strands.

Where the hell did that though come from? I chastise myself as his scent captivates my nose.

Spicy with a hint of citrus.

Really? Are you a dog or something? A voice in the back of my mind comments sarcastically.

"I'm not trying to save anyone," Xavier scoffs like the brunette's words are the biggest joke he's ever heard. I was this close," he pinches his thumb and forefinger to indicate his meeting, "to escaping this poor excuse of a party. But then your dumb ass decided to bitch about a stain on your tacky shirt."

"This shirt," the brunette steps closer to him until I'm pressed further against his chest, "is worth more than your entire existence—"

"Cool story," Xavier interrupts the brunette to prove the point that he really doesn't care about the ruined shirt.

Then before I can put heads or tails to what's happening I feel myself being lifted up into the air and thrown over Xavier's shoulder. Like a freaking damsel in distress. No, not a damsel.
More like a sack of potatoes.

What the fuck does he think he's doing? the words go off in my head when I feel us moving towards the front door.

"Well," that was anticlimactic," someone shouts above the booming music.

"I thought it was cute. The way he stepped into—"
the rest of the sentence cuts off  as the door shuts with an audible thud and I find myself still in the hold of my unwarranted saviour.

With a measured breath I briefly glimpse up at the night sky before looking down. My peripheral sight catching the slightest glimpses of individuals who'd chosen to meander outside rather than join the chaos inside the frat house.

"Where," an involuntary gasp parts my mouth as I feel a pressure on my right knee, "do you think you're touching?" Xavier's large hands skim up both my legs, moving carefully over my butt until they reach my hips.

"You've got nice curves," my question goes unanswered as I'm planted on my feet in front of my unwanted rescuer.

"And you," I step towards him until not an inch of space separates us. Then tapping into what I consider to be seductive, but what Alice thinks is cringey, I pull Xavier by the front of his shirt. My fingers dipping slightly under the hem of it to trace over his stomach. "Really need to keep your hands to yourself," I ram my foot into his right leg.

With a curse under his breath Xavier crumples to the ground like an unbalanced wheelbarrow. A breath whistling through his lips as he groans and clutches his injured leg.

"Asshole," I turn on my heels and walk away from the frat house. Completely ignoring how some people rush to Xavier's aid while others just mumble 'damn' under their breaths.

Bitchy move. I ignore my inner voice, needing to get as far away from Xavier as possible.

Despite how we barely spoke and despite how he saved me from the brunette. Something about him gets under my skin.