Chapter 18
James
Something is wrong.
No, everything is wrong.
Not just with the scene, although, if I’m honest, the scene definitely isn’t doing it for me.
Which makes no sense. The girl in my lap is hot, and even if she wasn’t, the four others in the room are good-looking. She’s not even totally annoying, although for the life of me I can’t remember one damn thing we talked about.
The beer’s free-flowing, the music’s good…
And I can’t get into it. Any of it.
But I’m less worried about me and the fact that I’m suddenly indifferent to something that used to work like a charm, and more worried about my best friend.
I feel eyes on me and look over to see Bret giving me a weird look. He holds up the drink Nadine shoved at him and lifts his eyebrows in question.
I shake my head. Dunno.
Then his gaze shifts to Debs—the girl in my lap—and his brows lift again. I realize way too late that Deb's kissing my neck, and not only am I not getting into it—
Hell, I didn’t even notice it.
This is not a good sign.
There’s no good way to do this, so I grit my teeth and put both hands on Debs' waist, shifting her to the right as I ease to the left.
She gives me a startled look, but an apologetic smile is all I can manage. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I’ll be right back, except…
I don’t know that I will.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, only that I need to find Nadine. Figure out why she’s home instead of getting laid by Carlos or Carlo or whatever.
I pause by Narez on my way toward the stairs. “Get rid of them. But nicely. Send the booze with them to ease the blow.”
“You got it,” he says, pushing to his feet.
I feel kind of crappy about the fact that I’m going to throw, like, ten people’s Friday night off its game, but hell…they’re all mostly drunk anyway. They can always relocate to Joe’s house; he’s a three-minute walk away.
I take the stairs two at a time, not surprised to see that Nadine's door is shut.
I am surprised to find it locked.
I didn’t even know she had a lock.
My chest feels tight.
“Nadz?”
I knock with one knuckle.
Nothing.
I pound the door louder, this time with my palm, telling myself that maybe she can’t hear over the still-thumping music.
Still nothing.
Well…fine.
I’m not a younger brother for nothing. I know just how to handle a locked door.
I head toward my own room, yank a shirt off a wire hanger, and then unbend the hanger into proper lock-picking position as I head back to her room.
Only to find that the door’s open by the time I get there.
Nadine's standing there, dressed only in lingerie—wow lingerie—as she stares down at the hanger in my hand.
“Really?” she asks, when her eyes come back to mine.
