"Get out Drayton!" Spencer orders, barging into the hotel room, adorned in a tight white dress with a plunging neckline and a pair of pumps.

"Excuse me?" he chortles, not budging when Spencer attempts to heave him off the bed. I glance at the reflection in the full length mirror, watching the image backwards while they scuffle. "This is my room ya fûcking drip."

"Go see Grayson. It's time to separate!" she orders, slapping his shoulder repeatedly until he stands up and moves away from her swatting hand with a look of annoyance.

"God, you're annoying." He walks past and shoves her in the shoulder so that she falls on to the bed. His expression morphs from mild frustration to admiration as he shimmies up behind me in the mirror, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind, his hands splaying out across the front of my stomach.

"You look beautiful," he murmurs, nuzzling the spot under my ear while he caresses the fabric of my black two-piece outfit. It's a cropped tank top and short skirt that I've paired with a strappy pair of heels.

His fingers collect the hair that curls down my front, pushing it behind my shoulders before his lips feather light kisses along my neck and shoulder. I watch his face in the mirror and my stomach turns to jelly at the lust and desire that I can see in his features.

"Um I'm right here!" Spencer scoffs from the bed, her brows pulled together and palm turned upwards as if to say 'duh'.

"Could you leave?" Drayton mumbles, his hot mouth still mercilessly teasing me with wet kisses.

"No!" she bites, standing up, no doubt to start physically assaulting him again. "You've probably already boinked like three times today. Get over it you nymphos."

"Actually, today's been pretty dry." He gives up the kisses and pulls me tight against him while I continue trying to coat my lashes with mascara, which is exceedingly difficult with a pair of masculine arms encircled around me, jostling my movements every few seconds. "So if you could come back later, that'd be nice."

"Dray," I warn with amusement. I playfully glare at him through the mirror when he shrugs and adopts an innocent expression. I know that if he gets his hour, he'll talk me into never leaving and I promised Spencer a girls night. "Go and see Grayson. I'll catch up with you later."

His defiant scowl and pouting lip are so childish that I find it cute. I turn around and tiptoe to press our lips together with a soft chaste kiss. It's enough to wind him up and leave him wanting more, but not so much that it's cruel to cut him off. "We'll continue that later." I laugh when he takes an exaggerated deep breath. "Go have a good guys night."

"Call me if you need me!" he mumbles with warning in his tone and visible concern in his eyes. "I'll see you later."

His hands cup either side of my face, completely encasing it in his large grip as he leans down and returns the brief kiss.

I watch his back muscles rippling with his movements while he walks towards the door, almost tempted to stop him from leaving and kicking Spencer out instead.

"Look after my girl, Spencer!" he calls over his shoulder after the doors been opened. Neither of us can see him but Spencer nods, rolling her eyes as if she'd never get me into any trouble. We both know that's a total lie. "Don't try and convince her to do something dumb with you!"

Spencer's volatile and lengthy rant is cut off when the door slams shut, Drayton obviously not wanting to listen to the prattling of my best friend. The dynamics between all of us are amusing to say the least.

Satisfied with how I've dolled myself up, I twirl in the mirror, casting a glance over the entire ensemble. It's cute and when Spencer joins me in the mirror, she throws her arm over my shoulder and strategically holds her phone up with one hand, taking a few snaps in different poses.

"Alright, I bought my jack." She shimmies her shoulders while I follow her towards the kitchenette. The large bottle of spirits sits like a beacon on the bench, calling my best friend forward with her outstretched arms. "Let's do a couple of shots before we go out. Alcohol is so expensive when you buy it over the bar."

We search the kitchen cupboards for a pair of shot glasses but come up empty and instead decide to settle for a set of scotch glasses, only filling them with the equivalent of a double shot. Or perhaps a triple since it's Spencer pouring them and she has absolutely no chill.

"Girls' night!" she sings with her phone outstretched in one hand and the glass in her other. She holds down the snap button to take a video and we clink our cups together before throwing them back.

The video captures our sour faces at the end of the shot. Both of us appearing as though we just ate a wedge of lemon. But I convince Spencer to post it anyway, drinking is ugly, there's no point in sugar coating it.

A few more shots go down, a little smoother each time. Eventually a light buzz settles over me. Spencer too apparently as she hiccups and giggles at her own reflection in the hotel elevator.

We don't exactly have a solid plan for our evening, so we catch a cab into the city centre and decide that our best course of action would be to wander until we stumble upon something that strikes our attention. The streets are alive with hundreds and hundreds of party-goers. Bars are filled to the brim, people spilling out onto the footpaths, music blaring from each and every pub that we pass.

Sidestepping to avoid crashing into another body every few steps is almost a sport of its own and Spencer and I have to lace fingers and cling to each other so that we don't get split up.

"All ages!" Spencer shouts, her free hand pointing at a chalkboard that sits on the sidewalk. It's decorated in bright colours and lists the special cocktail prices for the evening. It also has an all-ages disclaimer on the bottom.

We hop into the line that's a reasonable length but seems to be moving relatively quickly. We chat with a few girls that are lined up as well.

"So where are you guys from?" Spencer slurs, leaning against the brick wall behind her.

"We're from Cedar Key, its like an hour from here," the first girl, who's name is Leila, answers. She's a petite girl who can't be older than sixteen. Her auburn locks are chopped into a cute LOB. "We're actually not even supposed to be out tonight but our parents wouldn't let us do anything for spring break. So we snuck out."

She points to her friend who seems rather timid. She's a curvy girl with long pin straight, black hair. They're both gorgeous but I can't get over how young they look.

"You snuck out?" Spencer chokes out with bewilderment. "How old are y'all?"

"Fifteen." Leila shrugs and the line starts to move up a little further.

I sweep their bodies and can't believe that she'd just said they're fifteen. They're clad in tiny dresses that even I'd feel uncomfortable in. The streets at night aren't particularly safe, especially not in an area that's so drug and alcohol heavy.

"Do you guys do this often?" I question, watching them while we take another few steps forward. The front of the line is coming into view and we're about four people back from being let in.

"Yeah we do this all the time!" Leila responds with a proud smile. At this point, if I ever have my own kids, I'll never believe a word they tell me. Because apparently the most innocent looking children can be the biggest shit talkers ever. "We don't drink. We just come for the dancing. We also never go home with strangers or walk between the alleyways at night. We might be sneaking around but we're not stupid."

I feel mildly relieved to know that they at least take precautions when they're breaking their parents carefully put in place rules. The line moves up again and the two girls present their wrists to the bouncer on the door, who stamps them with a big red cross to indicate no alcohol. They give us a small wave and disappear inside as we step up and do the same as the two before us.

The club is no different to a lot of the ones I've been to before. A big space for dancing. Strobe lights, a bar and a lifted stage for the DJ. Of course, we don't have an older friend with us to buy alcohol. But judging from Spencer's sloppy dance moves and droopy eyes, that's probably not a bad thing.

•

An hour later, both of us are aching from non stop dancing. Our legs are wobbly and we're out of breath, so we wriggle our way out of the crowded, sweaty space and head towards the maze of circular couches. They're arranged around each other, the backs connecting up so that there are four booth seats in a group, offering privacy until you lean over the back, into someone else's booth.

We lean back in the plush soft seats and sigh a breath of relief at the tension leaving our feet. I'll never know how women go to work and spend an entire nine to five day in a pair of stilettos. I can't imagine anything worse.

"Okay, I love my boyfriend, but look at that dude!" Spencer slaps the top of my hand, her eyes focused on a tall lean man, dressed sharply in a casual suit, no tie or jacket and the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt are undone. He looks to be in his early twenties and his jet black hair falls in soft waves around his defined face. He leans with his elbow atop a tall table, his dark eyes scanning the space in front of him as he lifts a glass of what looks to be bourbon to his lips.

"He's a little too lean for me." I shrug, knowing full well how idiotic that sounds when I remember Cooper. Of course, he hadn't exactly done it for me either.

"Well not every guy can give hulk a run for his money," Spence scoffs, sitting up straighter and pouring a glass of water from the jug on the table in front of us.

"Is Grayson not meeting all of your needs?" I grin with a raised brow when she whips her head towards me with a defensive expression.

"I love Gray!" She furrows her brows together, wiping away a bit of water that slips down her chin. "But I'm not blind. That guy is hot."

She glances back in his direction but lowers her head with crimson cheeks when she locks eyes with the subject of her blush. I watch the man who looks as though he should have been cast as Christian Grey, squinting at him while he continues to stare at Spencer with an animalistic expression. I don't appreciate how he's practically undressing her with his eyes and I especially don't appreciate that she seems to be enjoying it.

"Cut it out!" I hiss. "I'll tip this water over your head if you don't stop being an eye whore."

She rolls her eyes but averts her attention back to me. I suspect she's about to justify her actions but we're soon interrupted by a couple of guys who plonk down on either side of us. They appear to be our age, the glimmer in their eyes and the supple skin on their flustered cheeks seems to scream youth for some reason.

"What's up ladies. Is it all good if we join you?" The one beside me with a skin fade hair cut and a tie dye tank top smiles, reaching for the water. "I'm Carter, that's Devon." He points to the boy beside Spencer who has thin golden arms and a backwards cap on.

He gives us a brief wave but his attention remains on the crowd before us. Spencer stares at him, but not out of adoration. More likely because his pupils are the size of saucers and he can't stop shifting in his seat.

"Dallas," I introduce myself and lace my fingers with Spencer's, "this is my girlfriend, Spencer."

Without missing a beat, she lifts my hand and places a kiss on the top of it, smiling at me as though we're a legitimate couple. The amount of times we've used this move as an escape  from being hit on has left us with a never-failing scenario. We don't even have to talk it over. We know how long we've been dating, how we met and when we're getting married.

"Oh cool!" Carter beams and points at his friend. "Devon's sister is a lesbian. She works here! How long have you guys been together?"

I'd half expected the usual response of either disappointment or a request to start pashing then and there. It's always one or the other. Carter hadn't seemed in the least bit put out by our declaration.

"Oh um. Seven months," I murmur, sharing a subtle look of bewilderment with Spencer. She stifles a giggle but picks up the conversation.

"We met at a festival last year, both of us volunteered to carry the flag in an LGBT parade and it was love at first sight," she coos, shuffling closer to me.

"Y'all make a hot couple." Carter winks, falling back into the seat with his hands behind his head. "Gonna give each other a little tongue for me?"

And there it is.

I'm disappointed. He'd seemed to be somewhat respectful until that comment came out of his mouth.

"Sure!" Spencer giggles and before I can react she turns my head with her finger on my chin and locks lips with me, pushing her tongue into my mouth in a brief but sloppy kiss.

Now I know just how plastered she actually is. It's a good thing a little pash between friends doesn't bother me too much.

"Nice!" Devon announces from beside Spencer. This is the first time that he's spoken and he watches us with wide, satisfied eyes.

"So do you girls wanna come with us to a hotel party?" Carter sits up and pulls his cellphone out, scrolling through it without offering any more explanation.

"What's a hotel party?" Spencer shrugs and when I glance over, I chuckle at the sight of my red lipstick on her lips.

"Uh it's a party, in a hotel." Carter laughs a breathy laugh, shrugging his outstretched arms with his phone still in one hand. "My Dad owns the Liberty across the road and we've got the entire top floor booked out. It's going off over there. We've literally been walking around for the last two hours inviting people."

"That sounds kind of fun?" Spencer gives me an uncertain smile.

"Mhmm, how do we know you're not luring us to some sort of back door surgery to steal our kidneys. You might leave us in an ice bath with no organs."

"That only happens in the movies," Carter argues, his eyes on the verge of a sarcastic roll except he doesn't seem to have total control of them.

"Come on!" Spencer stands up, apparently making the decision for us. "It sounds exciting!"

"I feel like I can physically hear the guys telling us we're idiots for this," I mumble, getting to my feet along with the others.

"The guys?" Carter questions with a smug grin. "Thought you two were lesbians."

Spencer and I glance at each other and if it wasn't for the guilty grin that's contorted Spencer's features, I may have been able to keep a straight face. But the way she bites down on her lip with wide eyes is too funny and we both burst into a series of giggles.

"You never fooled me for a second." Carter grins, extending his arm and gesturing for us to lead the way.

"Oh really?" I scoff.

"Yeah, not many lesbians have buff dudes on their screensavers."

I glance down at my phone and groan with amusement at the picture of Drayton on the beach yesterday. He'd been busy staring out at the vast open water after we'd finished swimming, drips of glistening water still speckled his skin and his hair sat in a sexy messy style.

"That's my boyfriend," I admit with a sheepish smile as we weave through the crowd. Carter guides us through, using his height and build to create a break in the sea of bodies. When I glance over my shoulder, Spencer is being led the same way by Devon, who despite his smaller size, seems to have a strong sense of presence as well.

"Figured," Carter shouts over the music. "That's why I told y'all to pash. Don't worry, I'm still not gonna hit on you. That dude looks hard to compete with."

"Well you're not wrong there!"

•

To my relief, the hotel party is a real thing. It's on the top floor of a five-star resort and the music thumps through the elevator before it's even reached its destination. When the doors open, we're instantly greeted by a settled cloud of heavy smoke, the stench of dope and cigarettes fill the air. All of the room doors are opened, people spill out of them, darting from room to room. Some girls are barely wearing any clothing, a couple of unfortunate souls are passed out in the corridor, the lights are low and shouted excitement comes from all directions.

As we make our way down the corridor, we peer inside the rooms and notice that each one seems designated to certain 'activities.' One room is housing a game of strip poker and I'm almost certain that someone was getting a blowjob in the far corner.

Another room is clouded with dope smoke, people pass joints and bongs and I wave off the fog in front of my face as we pass. Another room looks like an electric dance party with shirtless boys and barely clothed girls, dancing wildly to the dubstep that threatens to shatter my eardrums.

"I wanna go in there!" Spencer immediately stares towards a room full of spirit bottles and a makeshift bar. People are lounged on the expensive-looking furniture with cocktail and scotch glasses, there's a small group that are dancing as well. It's like a tiny pub.

"I'll keep an eye on her." Devon shrugs and follows her with a casual stroll.

Leaving my best friend with some drug-addled guy that we just met is not my idea of girls' night, so I swivel to follow her but abruptly stop when a familiar laugh passes my wavelength, causing the hairs on my arm to stand to attention in concern.

"Excuse me," I mumble to a confused Carter and start heading in the direction that I'd heard my boyfriend coming from.

The first few rooms offer no sign of him and I start to wonder if I'd imagined things until I peek into the last room of the corridor and spot him immediately.

He and Grayson are side by side, talking animatedly to a drop-dead gorgeous blonde, wearing a soft silk robe that barely covers her vagina. A few poles are erected around the room and lingerie-clad babes dance around them while oodles of eyes ogle them, tossing dollar bills at the strippers.

"Dirty dick!" I shout, my voice not wavering because the white-hot rage that simmers is driving all of the bite in my tone.

Almost every head in the room turns in my direction, but the only eyes that I focus on are the ones that stare at me in surprise. If he feels guilty, he's masking it pretty damn well.

I don't even want to look at him. So when he calls my name, I ignore him, turn on my heel and beeline towards the room that I'd left Spencer in, most likely downing more cocktails than her liver can handle.

"We're going." I grab her arm, causing the drink in her hand to splash when it's halfway to her puckered lips.

"Is everything okay?" Devon questions, his eyes glancing over my shoulder, towards whatever - or whoever's - just entered the room.

"Dallas?" His strong but concerned tone almost breaks my resolve, but I don't turn around. I feel sick at the thought of him hanging around some fucking whore - for - hire.

"Grayson?" Spencer turns around and recoils, creating an attractive double chin as she also stares past my shoulder.

"Hey baby?" he mumbles from behind me. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey man." Drayton's voice oozes authority and I notice Devon staring expectantly. "Clear out this room for me would you. Gray, take Spencer back to the hotel."

Spencer shrugs, giving me an apologetic smile but doesn't argue when she shuffles past and no doubt disappears with her prick of a boyfriend. It hasn't evaded me that he was talking to that tramp as well.

Devon abides by Drayton's request and within a minute or two, the door shuts, drowning out the thumping music and leaving me alone with Dray. Or so I assume he's still here. I haven't turned around once in the entire time I've stood here, seething with an unfathomable rage.

"What are you doing here?" he mumbles, his fingers trace a light pattern on the bare skin of my shoulder and I inwardly curse at the goosebumps that form against my will.

"You don't get to ask questions!" I spin around and fix him with an ice-cold glare. "You were in a room full of fucking strippers, not to mention you were flirting with one! What would have happened if I'd never shown up. Would you have paid her for a private dance. Maybe a happy ending?!"

"Why don't you fucking trust me!" he shouts so loudly that I flinch and step back. His brows remain raised as his tongue flicks out and licks his bottom lip. "I've never given you a reason not to trust me but you still accuse me of something I haven't done whenever you get the chance!"

"I saw what I saw, Drayton!" I hiss with vehemence but of course the umpteen amount of drinks that I've had tonight cause me to slur.

"What you saw, is a chat with Grayson's cousin! I've known that girl for as long as I've known him! And before you ask what I was doing here, I was probably doing the same thing you were! Partying! Grayson spotted her in between a room shuffle. I had no intention of going in there for any other reason!"

He finishes his long, legitimate sounding explanation with a strained voice. Throughout the defensive shouting, he'd stepped closer and his chest is now a mere inch from my face. I stare up at him with a dark expression, refusing to accept his excuse so easily. If there's anything I refuse to be, it's weak.

"She's not your cousin," I argue with a scowl. "I go with my gut feeling."

"And what's your gut telling you, Dallas?" he barks again, his chest rising and falling with laboured breaths. "Because if it's telling you that I'm a liar, then I'll let you walk the fuck out of here right now. I'm not going to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't trust me!"

"And I'm not going to be in a relationship with someone who makes a dick of me behind my back!"

"For God's sake Dallas!" He steps back, rolling his head in exasperation. "Why the fuck would I spend one cheap meaningless night with a girl I don't care about, when I can have you anytime I want! Why would I hurt you like that when I fûcking love you!"

Someone may as well have thrown an ice-cold bucket of water straight at my face with the way I step back, shock seizing my every nerve ending, causing me to freeze in place as I study is angered expression. Silence envelops us, settling like a heavy blanket that threatens to suffocate both of us the longer neither of us speaks. He begins to soften, his eyes saddening and his mouth relaxing from its tight line.

"Why the fuck do you always have to confess this kind of shit to me when you're drunk and we're fighting!!" A frustrated tear rolls down my cheek as my hands fly out, weakly shoving his chest as a sob seizes my movements.

Before I can retract my hands, he grasps them between his own and holds them tight against his heart.

"I'm not drunk," he murmurs, his forehead pressed against mine as he feathers kisses along my white knuckles. "I'm not drunk at all baby. I love you."

I stop struggling from his grasp and collapse into his chest as his arms wrap around me, rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin of my shoulder blades. I'm a mess, the alcohol perhaps hadn't made me feel out of control, but it had made me emotional and irrational. The sobbing and tears that stain his black T-shirt are evidence of that.

"I haven't touched a drop of alcohol tonight cheer," he mumbles against the hair on the top of my head as his hands continue to soothe me into a steady breathing pattern. "I love you and that's the truth. I've only told you the truth."

"I love you too, you -- you fucking asshole."

Drayton's low rumbling chuckle vibrates through me before he pulls me back and cups my face between his strong warm hands. "There she is." His smile is so genuine, so heartbreaking and beautiful.

I wonder for a moment, if perhaps our methods are a little unhealthy. But every couple argues and I suppose if they continue to end in mind-blowing, earth-shattering kisses, then it can't be too bad.

Drayton's mouth is frenzied against mine, his tongue rough but soft as it forces it's way past my salt-stained lips. The ache in my core starts to pound when he tangles his hands in my hair, roughly tugging it at its base and igniting total desire.

His lips begin to feather their way over each cheek, kissing away the tears that had soaked my skin just moments earlier and I feel the previous pain start to physically dissipate at the genuine action. 

Before things can heat up anymore, the door comes swinging open, snapping our attention towards the commotion that follows. Devon and Carter fall over the threshold, looks of panic and fear contorting their expressions. I've never seen such pure trepidation in someone's eyes before and seconds later, I mirror the distress.

Two men- two enormous men - wielding horrific-looking handguns, storm into the room, their faces hidden behind glasses and petrifying scowls. They heave the two boys further back, carelessly tossing them by the collar of their shirts. Drayton immediately shoves me behind him, his body becoming rigid and fierce as he does his best to protect me.

"Thank you boys!" a voice chimes before a third man strolls into the room, demanding attention as he rolls up his sleeves with a smug smile on his detached face. It's the man from the club. The one Spencer had practically screwed with her eyes.

He shuts the door and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he glances around, looking particularly pleased with the scene before him. My heart thumps loudly, a lump forming in my throat as I cling to Drayton's shirt, my fingers fumbling with the fabric while I peer around the side of him.

The muscled but lean man chuckles when he meets my eyes, a knowing gleam twinkling behind those dark orbs. "Now, let's attempt to get through this, without re decorating the walls in  brain matter."

• • •

Dun dun dun...😬
How's everyone feeling about this chapter?. I do apologise, it's a little longer than usual. I needed to fit a lot into this one. Haha.

Much love. Until next time. x