Page 52 of Handle Me

I shook my head slightly, hoping neither of my friends read into it. But Beatrice tilted her own and watched us.

“All good things,” Lucy said, still completely oblivious.

“That’s a shame.” He glanced at the table. “Can I buy you all another round?”

My friends nodded enthusiastically, and I muttered, “Sure.”

Considering I couldn’t keep his hands off me when we weren’t drinking, there was no point resisting a little booze.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Beatrice announced. She stood and grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”

I didn’t have much of a choice since she proceeded to drag me toward the loo. She bypassed the line entirely, catching the door as someone stepped out. Smiling sweetly at the next person waiting, she said, “Sorry. It’s an emergency. We’ll just be a minute.”

The girl started to protest, but Beatrice shut the door and locked it behind us.

“I can’t believe you just cut, like, fifty people.” Still, I was impressed. It wasn’t something I would ever do. I waited for her to use the toilet or the sink, but she just stood and tapped her foot.

“What is it?” I asked slowly.

Beatrice smiled as she delivered my words back to me. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us that you’re screwing Anderson Stone.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ANDERS

I stared over my shoulder, waiting for Lola to reappear. The club was packed, which made keeping up with her friend’s small talk difficult. We also didn’t have a bloody thing in common, which made it even harder.

“So then I transferred from Oxford to the University of London,” she yelled over the music. She paused and took a sip of her drink. “Where did you go to uni?”

“Didn’t,” I called back, trying to remember her name. “I started racing when I turned eighteen.”

“Oh.” She looked pleased at the idea I was some uneducated barbarian from nowhere. Or, at least, that’s what I imagined the attraction was. “I have a confession. I’ve never driven.”

What a surprise. Did city girls ever get behind the wheel? I plastered a smile on my face, “No kidding.”

She shook her head. “You could teach me how to drive.”

Not bloody likely. Before I had to concoct an excuse, Lola reappeared with her other friend. I couldn’t remember her name either, and I wasn’t going to sit here all night, trying to think of it. “Hey, what’s your name again?”

“Lucy,” the girl at the table chirped brightly.

I turned to the friend with Lola, who pursed her lips as if she was insulted.

“Or I can call you baby or some shit?” I offered.

“Tempting,” she called back. “But I wouldn’t want to cause trouble. I’m Beatrice.”

Trouble? I cocked my head about to ask her what she meant when Lola grabbed me.

“Let’s dance.”

“Oh! I’ll come,” Lucy said, but Beatrice stopped her.

“No, sweetie, Lola needs to tend to her charge.”

Something told me I wasn’t going to like this Beatrice. Lola dragged me onto the dance floor just as the music sputtered from a club beat into something slower. I expected Lola to panic and run, but she sighed. “That’s better. I can’t hear anything in here.”

“Then, why did you come?” I asked. My hands found her waist as we swayed.