Grooving to Life's Beat

Guess who's back?

A few hours later, the room was spinning; not in a chaotic way, but in that warm, giddy blur that came after a few glasses of gin. Angela and I were on the dance floor, her energy pulling me out of my thoughts and into the music. Her curls bounced wildly as she laughed, her arms thrown up like she didn't have a care in the world. I envied her ability to be so completely present, to exist so fully in the moment.

For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe. It was Angela's party, and tonight wasn't about my tangled feelings for Marshall or his maddening moods. Tonight was about celebrating my best friend. Annd I decided, if Marshall wanted to talk, he could wait until tomorrow. I deserved a break. I deserved to have fun.

And yet, even as I spun under Angela's arm, giggling at her terrible attempt at a salsa move, I couldn't completely block him out. The thought of him lingered at the edge of my mind, like a stubborn shadow. But I was determined to stay away from him tonight. And the gin swirling warmly in my veins seemed to help.

"Let's get a drink!" Angela shouted over the music, grabbing my hand and leading me back to our table.

I followed Angela back to the booth, sinking into the plush seat as I took a sip from my glass. The gin was doing its job, dulling the sharp edges of my thoughts, or at least trying to. Across the room, I could see Marshall and the guys gathered near the DJ booth, laughing about something. He looked... calm. Serious, even. He wasn't holding a drink, just standing there with his hands casually tucked into his pockets, like he wasn't aware of how annoyingly attractive he looked.

Stupid unfair genetics!

I tore my gaze away and focused on Angela, who was chatting with a few friends. This was my chance to enjoy myself, to forget about him.

"Emma," a low voice cut through the noise, sending a jolt down my spine. I didn't need to turn around to know it was him. I could feel his presence. Slowly, I glanced up, and there he was, standing at the edge of our booth.

When did he even get here?

"You should have some water," he said, his voice steady, his eyes focused on me. "You've had enough gin." He pushed a bottle of water on the table.

I blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. "And you're suddenly the alcohol police?"

He shrugged, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on you."

I frowned, locking eyes with him; those stupid, ridiculously perfect crystal blue eyes that had no right being so hypnotic. "I don't need babysitting, Marshall." I said and took another sip of my drink.

Without warning, he reached out and took the glass right out of my hand.

"Hey!" I protested, leaning forward as if I could snatch it back. "Give it back!"

He raised an eyebrow, holding the glass just out of reach. "I don't think so."

I crossed my arms, giving him the best glare I could muster in my slightly inebriated state. "Oh! Stop being so cynical Marshall!" I huffed, trying to focus. "You drink all the time, and now that I'm having fun, you just swoop in and ruin it for me!"

His lips twitched in amusement, that maddening almost-smile threatening to break free. "Drink this," he said, nodding toward the water he'd placed on the table. "I'm not trying to ruin your night. I just want you to be alright."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much," I shot back, gesturing with a grand sweep of my hand that nearly sent the water bottle flying. Meanwhile he just stood there, his stupidly perfect face unbothered and his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "I don't need you... or your brooding... or your stupid perfect jawline!"