Page 11 of Cry Baby
“You gonna cry about it?”
Those fucking words ignited fire inside me.
Biggie flushed and shook his head while the pacifist boyfriend sighed.
“Okay, you’re drunk.”
“Probably.”
He leaned down and kissed his boyfriend again, longer this time, and a hell of a lot messier, completely ignoring the rest of us.
The entire situation ceased to exist when they had one another suctioned.
My nails dug into my palm, and the itch under the suit spread up my arms, crawling along my spine.
I hated the fucking thing.
Biggie leaned closer, dodging the sprawling morons.
“Forget that guy,” he murmured. “Drunk asshole, like I tried to say before.”
I ignored it when the dickbag tried to catch my gaze again. The water glass was wrapped so tightly in my hand that it was a wonder it didn’t shatter.
That strange tightness in my chest twisted harder.
I didn’t like him. Not even a little.
“Come on,” Biggie said quietly. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
I looked at him, then back at the other man one last time. He wasn’t even pretending his attention wasn’t on me.
Slowly, I smiled and looked at Biggie.
“Okay.”
Biggie brightened immediately and slid off his stool, but I rose with my drink and walked over to the couple.
With one swift flick of my wrist, the water coated them both, and gasps erupted around me.
“What the fuck!”
I smiled at the names thrown at me. I already knew of all of them.
Freak.
Creep.
Asshole.
“You roll around in shit so often, Piggy. Thought you could use a bit of a wash.”
I ignored the slurs and curses as I walked away with a wide-eyed Biggie.
We started toward the door. But as we passed through the crowd, I glanced over my shoulder. The man followed my every movement, and I slowed my steps to let him follow with his gaze.
Another time, Pig.
I have a job to do.
