Page 27 of All Bets Are Off

“It’s been a long day, I guess. Everyone’s tired and drunk,” Evie says with a shrug. “Couples bicker sometimes, but like you’d know. You’ve never dated anyone longer than a week.”

“Better than being dumped after six months by that guy in the garage band you were obsessed with.”

Evie bares her teeth and holds up a threatening fist as Theo dips to the side with a laugh, and before the two of them can launch into further rivalry, Melissa interrupts the three of us. She pokes her head over Evie’s shoulder and points her drink at Theo and me.

“Hey, those handcuffs are pretty sturdy!” she says, like she didn’t expect them to actually stay intact for longer than an hour.

“Any chance you’d like to release us now?” I ask with wide, puppy-dog eyes and a polite smile as I hold up mine and Theo’s wrists. “I’ve just had to witness him pee, so surely my dare is complete?”

Melissa grins. “Nope,” she says, popping her lips on the “p”.

“Oh, we’re still handcuffed together?” Theo says, blinking at me in feigned surprise. “I thought you were just super clingy and couldn’t bear to leave my side.”

“Mel,” I say desperately, dropping my cute act and fixing her with a serious look. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with for the past three hours? This. Theodore and his big, fat ego. I don’t even know how it fits inside his head.”

Melissa and Evie exchange a look, before they both burst into laughter and shake their heads no in perfect synchronization. “Let’s go dance,” Mel says, grabbing Evie’s hand and pulling her onto the crowded dance floor.

Theo tugs on my wrist, and when I glance at him, he seems far too amused that our handcuffs saga continues. “Do you want to go dance too?”

“That’s okay. How about a drink?”

“How about we grab a drink and then dance?”

“How about just the drink part?”

Theo pouts his lips at me. “Why don’t you want to dance with me, Hails? I’m a good dancer. I’m good at everything.”

I laugh as I pull him toward the drinks table. “It’s just not my thing. I don’t really know how to dance, and I feel like I just look stupid whenever I try. I’ll be much happier sitting here in the booth forcing a drink down my throat and watching everyone else.” With my free hand, I grab a bottle of rum and pour both of us a drink, mixing the liquor with some pineapple juice.

As I slip the drink into Theo’s hand, I see his pout has exaggerated even further. “Look how crowded this place is. It’s also, like, pitch black. Absolutely no one will be paying attention to you, I promise.”

“Theo . . .”

“You’re with me, Hails. I’ll look after you out there,” he says, and when I feel him tug hopefully on the handcuffs, I don’t put up much of a fight despite my apprehension.

Drinks in hand, we slip out of the booth past our personal security guard and onto the heaving dance floor. Theo weaves a path through a sea of faces until we’re right in the thick of the crowd, then he turns to face me with a huge grin. Our handcuffed wrists hang awkwardly in the space between us.

He starts to nod along with the music, moving his body in sync with the beat, and I try my best to mirror his movements, but I just can’t relax. I feel so entirely out of my depth. I’m so painfully shy, it’s almost debilitating sometimes. Why does nothing ever feel natural to me? Why do I always feel like the outsider while everyone else seems like they were handed the rulebook to socialization? Where’s my copy, dammit?

Theo stops dancing, his smile slackening. He tilts his head to one side and watches me carefully with concern. He leans in close, drawing his mouth close to my ear so that I can hear him over the music. “You look really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. We can go back to the booth—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I say, ignoring the brush of his body against mine. “This just isn’t my thing. All of these people, the music, the lights, dancing . . . It’s a bit overstimulating, but I’m fine, I promise. This is just what you have to do on a bachelorette party.”

Handcuffs locked around our wrists, Theo slips his hand into mine and says into my ear, “Just focus on me.”

I gulp. “You?”

“Yeah. Me.” He moves back a little so that he can meet my gaze again. The strobe lights are like fireworks reflecting in his Sinclair blue eyes, vibrant and colorful. “I’m easy to look at.”

“You really can’t go five minutes without praising yourself, can you?” I scoff, but inside my chest, my heart hammers at a million miles an hour. I’m trying to play it cool, but Theo is the only thing I can focus on right now. More specifically, the feel of his hand in mine, his skin soft, warm, comforting.

He smirks, and my stomach flips. “Don’t act like you don’t love my big, fat ego.”

It’s the alcohol. It has to be. I’m no stranger to Theo’s signature cocky smiles, but all of a sudden, I no longer feel indifferent about them. Every time Theo smirks at me this evening, something strange happens inside of my body. A tingle of anticipation that runs down my spine, a heat that flares over my cheeks, a magnetic pull toward him. Am I seriously so drunk that Theodore Sinclair is actually becoming . . . desirable?

“I don’t love your big, fat ego,” I counter.

He rests his forehead gently against mine, smoldering his eyes challengingly while my heart suffers palpitations. “You do.”