She looks stunning in a dress the same blue as her eyes, the shape a simple, elegant fitted bodice with a flared skirt that ends just past her knee.
“Hey, Willow. You look beautiful,” I tell her, getting up to give her a hug. We’ve become close over the past few weeks, and it made me realise how much I was missing having a girlfriend.
“So do you!” she exclaims, giving me an appreciative once-over once we pull apart. “Oh, this is Ben.” She indicates the guy standing behind her.
He’s cute, in an All-American kind of way, all thick brown hair and sparkling white teeth.
“Hey,” he says, flashing a smile, which dims a little as Ash gets up to stand next to me, no doubt scowling. “Ah, h–hi, man.”
Ash remains silent, fucking rude twatwaffle that he is until I elbow him in the ribs.
“Hello, Ben,” he drawls in that low voice of his, and whilst it makes me shiver, poor Ben visibly swallows. I roll my eyes.
“Don’t mind him, Ben. He was hit with the arsehole stick on the way up from Hell,” I tell him, watching as his eyes widen, flicker to Ash, and then look back at Willow, who’s positively shaking with repressed laughter.
“You’ll pay for that later, Princess,” Ash whispers in my ear, his tone dark.
Oh, I fucking hope so.
“Uh, I–I’ll go get some drinks,” Ben squeaks out, practically tripping in his haste to get away.
Willow sighs. “Did you have to scare him off?” she asks Ash, hands on her hips as she scowls at him. I love her even more for the fact that she's not afraid to call Ash out on his shit too.
“If he was any good, he wouldn’t have been scared off,” Jax says behind us, and Willow gapes at him.
“Hang on a fuck, you speak?” she exclaims, her hand on her chest and her big eyes even wider with her fake sarcasm.
I hear a bark of Jax’s laughter, which really does shock Willow if her ‘what the fuck’ look is anything to go by. I turn, planning on taking my seat again when I catch sight of Amber pawing at Loki like he’s a fucking dog toy.
Oh, I’m gonna cut a bitch.
“Excuse me,” I mumble, and without pausing to think through what I am doing, I march over to the DJ and demand the next song. There must be something crazed in my eyes because he nods, his eyes wide and palms held up in a placating gesture.
I set my sights on Amber, still fawning over a stock-still Loki. He catches my gaze as the opening beats ofThe Boy is Mineby Liv Lovelle come over the speakers, and his eyes go wide as I walk right up to them, invading their personal space.
Amber turns round, presumably to see what Loki is staring at, a smug as fuck grin coming over her lips when she sees me standing there. Unfortunately for her, Liv begins to sing and I mouth along, holding her increasingly narrow glower as the lyrics start to sink in. I start to dance, gyrating up against her, touching her with dismissive gestures as I successfully manoeuvre myself so that I’m standing in between her and Loki.
I keep my eyes locked on hers, continuing to sing along as I start to grind my arse into Loki, his hands coming up instinctively to my waist, even as he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“What are you doing, Pretty Girl?” His words end on a groan as I move my body so that I’m rubbing up against the bulge in his trousers that is now very prominent. “Fuck, you are going to get us in a shitload of trouble, baby,” he rasps, pulling me closer, his hands tightening their grip on me.
Amber’s face is as red as the roses that surround us as she notes the move, standing there watching as her fiancé basically dry humps me on the dance floor.
“Get your dirty whore hands off of him!” she screeches, taking a menacing step towards me, fake nails ready to claw my eyes out.
“Touch her and I’ll fucking kill you,” Loki growls out, continuing to dance with me, his words and the venom of his tone halting Amber in her tracks.
“B–but, you're mine!” she wails, angry tears filling her eyes. “We’re engaged!”
“Oh, honey,” I reply, my voice sickly sweet as my hand comes up into Loki’s hair, pulling his face down into my neck. He places a kiss there, a small moan leaving my smirking lips as the spot tingles. “He will never be yours.”
She stamps her foot, literally stamps it like a three year old, then spins on her shiny Louboutins, and storms from the room.
“Are you quite finished fucking my fiancée on the dance floor?” Ash’s voice drawls from the side of us, and I turn my head to take in his posture of boredom. I’d believe it too if it weren’t for the way his grey eyes spit with anger.
Whoops.
“Told you, baby,” Loki sighs, placing one final kiss on my shoulder before straightening up, but not stepping back.