THEO
“Emmie, wait,” Ben calls after her as she bolts from the room as if the hounds of hell are on her tail.
My entire body stiffens, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve shoved Sloane away from me.
From her squeal of shock, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that I’d knocked her clean off her feet.
I follow them to the back of the house and up the same stairs from earlier this evening.
Watching her leave with him fucking pained me. I followed them up, ready to make a point about just who Emmie belongs to.
I don’t give a fuck who he is. No one—and I mean no one—takes what belongs to me.
“Get the fuck out of my way,” I demand, twisting my fingers in the back of his t-shirt and dragging him back down the stairs.
“What the—”
He glances over his shoulder, his eyes colliding with mine, and a resigned look covers his face.
“Leave her the fuck alone,” I growl, dragging him farther backward, forcing him to lose his footing and tumble down the stairs he’d climbed.
“Motherfucker,” he grunts as he hits each step.
It’s far from the first time we’ve clashed. It’s just usually on the pitch, and never over a girl.
My fucking girl.
I fly at the door and push the handle, but it doesn’t budge.
“Emmie?” I boom, pounding my fist down on the door. “Emmie, open the fucking door,” I shout, my heart beginning to race.
The way she ran from the room… something isn't right.
“Emmie.”
“She’s drunk,” Ben says, finally making it back up the stairs. “She’s probably just puking.”
Turning my head slowly, I hold his concerned stare.
“Did I say I needed your fucking help?” I seethe quietly.
“Fuck you, Cirillo. Emmie’s cool. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“You,” I spit, turning to face him. “You fucking did this. What did you give her?”
He pales at my accusation. “What? I didn’t— I wouldn't… She was throwing back vodka like it was going out of fashion. That’s not my fault.”
I pull my arm back, ready to shut him the fuck up, when a loud thud sounds from behind the locked door.
“Emmie,” I breathe.
Uncurling my fist, I give the dick a forceful shove to get him out of my way before I run full force at the door, my shoulder colliding with the solid wood.
“Emmie?” I shout, but when no response comes, I try again.
Thankfully, the lock gives on my second attempt and I fly into the bathroom, unable to catch myself before I crash into the basin. My ribs smart as I slam into the ceramic, but the sight of the slumped figure on the floor ensures I don’t feel any of it.
“Emmie,” I cry, dropping to my knees beside her and brushing her hair from her face.