Free Embracing Trouble (Trouble Series) by Dee Bridle Page A

unsure of where else to go. I watched a girl holding two beers walk past me and weave her way in and out of the bodies, heading into the crowd. I would never find Zac or the guys in this crowd. I turned to the bar and squeezed my way in, ordering a whiskey and coke. I took a sip and felt my hand shake and soon took another, knowing I needed to quell my nervousness.
    I watched the band throw their heads back and forth as they played, the singer screaming and crouching over the speakers. It was wild, almost primal as everyone in the crowd moved their heads in time and jumped up and down. I took in the girls that I could find, all alternative, lots with red hair, all with piercings and tattoos. Did Zac like that?
    I thought I had been a little wild dying my hair black, but it was nothing compared to these girls, and I didn’t feel so confident anymore. I probably looked very boring in comparison. I felt the heat coming from all the bodies but didn’t move to take my hoodie off just yet. I needed it around me at the moment, to make me feel hidden and just part of the crowd.
    I finished my whiskey and thought about lining up for another one when I saw him by the bar, a girl hanging from his neck. He was watching the band and moving his head in time, standing on a long bench seat against the wall for a better view. He looked so…hot, and I instinctively licked my lips, tasting the whiskey on them.
    I watched the girl put her hands up in the air to sing along and then lean over and start to lick his neck. His eyes didn’t move from the band, like letting a girl lick him was just part of his night. I suddenly hated her. She was getting to do something that I wanted to do, without a care and without him pushing her away. I was so deluded coming here tonight.
    I should go. I should leave before he sees me here, and I lose all self-respect for myself. I turned, but it was too late, as his eyes connected with mine, narrowing first in disbelief and then in anger.
    The band finished a song and there was a roar from the crowd. His girl stopped her licking and cheered for them with her hands up in the air. Her short top rose with her arms, and I saw the tattoo covering her body and swallowed. Totally deluded.
    Another song started and the crowd screamed their approval, but his intense gaze didn’t move from me. I stared back at him, lifting my chin in defiance. I had nothing to lose now, all self-respect had disappeared when I had come here tonight, following him around like a fool. Someone pushed past me and I lost contact for a moment. When I looked over to him again, he was looking down at his phone.
    My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out.
     
    Zac: You shouldn’t be here.
     
    I typed a response: You’re forbidding me to see bands now, too?
     
    Zac: How many warnings do you need from me?
     
     
    Ava: None. I’m not here for you. I’m just doing what I want to do.
     
    Zac: Are you having a rebellious five minutes?
     
    I took a deep breath.
     
    Ava: Think what you like.
     
    Zac: I think and do what I like. See the girl next to me? We fucked an hour ago. Go home.
     
    I gasped as I read his text, feeling my stomach drop. I didn’t want to think of them together with her perfect tattooed body. I wanted it to be a joke, but I knew it wasn’t. I gathered the only strength I had left in me and didn’t look up at him. I knew he was waiting for me to get upset. He was an asshole and had crushed me with a single sentence. I had been warned. Again.
    I turned away on shaky legs, needing to get out of there before I collapsed and cried my heart out. He wasn’t holding back this time, showing me just how much he didn’t want me around him.
    I tried to blink the tears away, knowing I was playing high school games, and that he had known it all along. I didn’t belong here. I was a silly good girl who was being rebellious for five minutes. I sipped the rest of my whiskey as I slipped my phone back in my jeans pocket. I