Gabby: Outside, I just pulled up.
Me: Stay in your car.
I quickly typed out a text to Talon and told him to go outside and make sure Gabby left. I wasn’t about to leave the kitchen where Scarlette was. Placing my phone back in my pocket, I looked up again and a new found rage settled inside of me.
Troy Allen was standing next to Scarlette, smiling down at her as his hand swept over her bare arm. Macy and the other girls were now dancing by the kitchen table and had no idea what Scarlette was doing. Troy leaned down and whispered something in Scarlette’s ear, causing a deep crimson blush to heat her cheeks. Any control I had left in that moment. I knew Troy Allen well. He had a way of sweet-talking girls into his bed and most ended up not remembering anything the next morning. He sought after girls who were drunk or high—making him one of the lowest assholes you could find. I didn’t mess with guys like that.
Approaching them, Troy’s gazed fixed on mine and I saw the defeat in his eyes. He knew better than to mess with me. Everyone knew what my father was capable of, and no one dared to find out if I was just like him, too.
Taking a step back, he let his hand drop to his side and Scarlette flashed him a confused look. Her glazed over eyes followed his until they reached me. Her smile faded and a storm flashed across her features. Clouds raged in her eyes and for some reason, that made me smile.
“Uh, Hey, Ason,” Troy said, taking another step away from me. His back bumped into the stove and I saw him wince from pain.
“Get the hell out of here, Troy,” I growled out.
Troy nodded, before retreating for the living room. He knew better than to dare and open his mouth to argue with me. I stared down at Scarlette as her hate-filled eyes bore into me.
“What are you doing?” she slurred, swatting at my arm.
When her fingers touched my skin, I felt a spark of energy course through me. I knew she felt it, too, because even through her drunken haze, I heard her gasp and she quickly pulled back from me.
“You need to go home,” I tell her, through clenched teeth.
Hands on her hips, Scarlette attempts to stand up straight, but her legs almost give out and she has to reach for the counter to steady herself. “You can’t tell me what to do,” she slurs again.
At our exchange, Macy approaches. While I can smell the fruity alcohol on her breath, she isn’t drunk like Scarlette is. I turn to her and glare and Macy shakes under my stare.
“Hi, I can get her out of here,” Macy says nervously.
Shaking my head, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to control the anger that is trying to bubble to the surface. “Shouldn’t you have been watching your friend?” I ask her.
Macy opens her mouth, but quickly clamps it shut.
“You don’t know me,” Scarlette cries out, causing both Macy and I to look at her again.
“Do you know who she is?” Macy asks.
I know that Macy must be confused as to why I am even talking to them. I never talk to anyone except f the girls I am about to bang.
“Scarlette is my tutor. I’ve never seen her here before,” I state fiercely.
I have no idea why I even need to explain myself. Macy should be the one answering the questions. She let her friend get drunk on her watch. As I was arguing with Macy, Scarlette had slipped out of my watch again.
Turning, I throw my hands up in the air as I spot Scarlette swaying her hips to the beat of the music while Troy stupidly saddles up next to her. This guy must have a death wish.
Storming out of the kitchen, I stop next to Scarlette as Troy’s hand slips to her waist. Before I know what I am doing, I rear my fist back and punch Troy in the face. I hear the deafening crack of bone as blood gushes out of his nose.
“What the hell, man?” Troy cries out, grabbing his nose and falling back.
Scarlette’s wide eyes look horrified as she takes in the scene before her.
“Why did you do that?” she asks, but her face looks distraught and her lips are trembling.
Macy, once again, runs up to us and she looks almost as horrified as her friend. My head is spinning and I can’t seem to control the rage that now consumes me. My anger intensifies as I take in Macy. If she had only paid better attention to her friend...
“How could you let her drink?” I roar out.
“Me?” Macy questions, as tears begin to form in her eyes.