Page 28 of Layla

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We just stare at each other for a long moment before I finally turn and stomp off towards the bus. He calls after me. “Layla you need— “

“I’ll bring Eddie,” I snap back, not caring who hears me. I just want to get out of here. To get away from him.

* * *

The club is exactlywhat I need. Pounding music, strobing lights, a press of bodies on the dance floor. The perfect place to get lost in, to stop thinking for a while.

I can feel John tense as soon as we walk in. Hell, he was tense the entire ride over, but he’s even worse now. His hand comes up to my elbow. I want to shake it off, but I take pity on him. He’s clearly stressed out about this environment.

“This way!” Lance shouts over his shoulder, pointing back to the VIP area.

“This will never stop being awesome,” Haylee shouts in my ear.

It would be a lot more awesome if my babysitter wasn’t here, but I just grin at her. “Get used to it, babe! VIP from here on out!”

As we make our way across the room, the dancers press in on us. Lennon throws a protective arm around Haylee and I see the other bodyguards tightening in on our group. John’s hand slips from my elbow down to my back, drawing me closer. I can feel the heat coming off of his body as he pulls me to his side. I know I shouldn’t enjoy it, the feel of him warm and strong next to me. I’m still pissed off and I need to hold on to that, to remember that he’s here to keep me from having fun.

Then I hear someone calling my name, a man’s voice in the crowd, and I instinctively cringe in even closer. John wraps his arm around my shoulders and I relax into him, resting my head on his chest. Damn, his arms are huge. It’s crowded in here and loud and I’m feeling more than a little freaked out, but it’s hard not to notice how nice this is, feeling his strong arm wrapped around me, his solid body buffering me from the crowd.

Then we’re being ushered past a velvet rope by a bouncer and the crowd disappears. “Shit,” I hear Dylan say, laughing but sounding a little breathless. “That was kind of nuts.”

“I think youmighthave been recognized,” Sean says, grinning.

“Layla, wasn’t that—” Dylan begins, turning to me. And then his eyes widen and I realize that I’m still pressed firmly to John’s side. I give myself a mental shake, taking a step away from him. “That got a little crowded,” I say in my lightest voice. “But don’t worry, Dyl. None of them were trying to get toyou.”

He rolls his eyes at my jab but at least he seems to have forgotten about how close I was to John. “This girl needs some booze in her,” he calls to the room at large. “She’s not nearly sassy enough yet.”

I join the rest of my friends at a roomy, velvet lined booth, acutely aware of John following me. He takes up a position behind my seat and slightly to the left, where he can see the dance floor and the bar. I toss my hair over my shoulder, trying to ignore his hovering presence. Trying not to think of how aware I am of him.

This is your first night off in weeks,I tell myself firmly.You’re here to have fun with your friends and relax.Not to obsess over grumpy security guards. Even if the one in question is seriously hot.

Even if that whole protective streak is starting to grow on me.

For a while, my pep talk works. The others are in a great mood, all the earlier tiredness forgotten. A waitress appears to take our drink order and we all rag on Dylan for his pathetic attempts at flirting. James lines up shots for us, looking annoyed when Willa wants to participate, so we rag on him too, for being an overbearing big brother and a general killjoy.

I do tense up when Haylee orders a Coke, instead of liquor. I always feel a little weird drinking in front of her these days. When she first cut back on her alcohol consumption last winter, the whole group used to refuse to drink in front of her at all, but she put an end to that real quick, demanding that we enjoy our nights out the way we always did, regardless of her sobriety. But it still feels wrong to me. I think it probably always will.

But with a few drinks in me, I manage to even let go of that worry. In fact, I feel so good that I agree when Dylan pulls on my hand and informs me that it’s time to get our dance on.

But all the liquor in this club wouldn’t be enough to keep me from noticing that John follows closely on my heels as we make our way out to the dance floor.

“The new security guy doesn’t look very pleased,” Dylan says in my ear so I can hear him over the loud pounding of the music.

“I think that’s his permanent expression.” I try not to think about the softer expression I’d seen on his face in the wings earlier. Which should be easy enough, since we’re out on the dance floor now and Dylan is pulling me against him, our bodies already moving to the beat.

“Who do you have your eye on?” he shouts over the music, his eyes scanning the dance floor.

I laugh. “I haven’t picked anyone yet.”

He grins that boyish grin of his. “We’ve been here for an hour and you haven’t found a guy to flirt with? That’s got to be a record for you.”

“Fuck off, Dyl.”

“Guess I’m stuck with you for a while.” He doesn’t look at all displeased about it, and my heart gives a little squeeze. It’s no secret to anyone in the band that Dylan has a crush on me—he has for years. There have been plenty of times when I’ve wished I could reciprocate it. Dylan would make an awesome boyfriend. He’s fun and sweet and loyal to a fault. He’s a great dancer, and he’s the only person in the band who actually knows how to cook. Plus, he’s adorable, with that messy brown hair and his constant devilish little smile. But none of that matters to my heart—Dyl is family, just like James and Lance. It would be like having a crush on my brother. Besides, he’s way too sweet for someone like me.