He yanked her wrist, and she collided into his damp T-shirt. “Aw, come on,” he whined, the alcohol on his breath mixing with the stench of stale cigarettes. “I’d love to bring you back to my place.”
She was more pissed off than scared, but her voice wobbled when she demanded to be let go.
“Vivienne?” Deacon called from outside the circle. “Is everything all right?”
“Vivienne?” Bret whispered. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”
She felt a steady, protective hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fine, Deacon.” This time when she pulled away, the guy let her go.
Bret mimed a silent apology to Deacon before turning back to his beer on the counter. All his friends laughed, and the tense moment ended as quickly as it had begun.
Deacon led Vivienne by the waist to the lane where everyone else waited with wide eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right? Because if you’re not—”
“I said, I’m fine, okay?” Why was her voice so shaky? She brushed away an annoying bit of hair that had fallen into her eyes and told him it wasn’t a big deal.
“Those guys are idiots.” Nicola came over and linked her arm through Vivienne’s. “The best thing to do is walk away.”
“Dash?” Ethan stepped beside Nicola and tilted his head in question.
Deacon glanced at Vivienne before looking back at Ethan and shaking his head ever so slightly. The guys dropped the issue and went back to being terrible bowlers. When the competition finished, the girls had trounced them three games to none.
“Do you want to ride back with us?” Ethan tossed his shoes atop the pile of discarded shoes at the returns counter. “It’ll be a squeeze, but Vivienne is so small we could fit her in the trunk.”
“Thanks a lot.” She kicked at his leg, but he sidestepped the assault with an easy laugh.
“The three of us could always call a cab so this one,” Emily said, patting Vivienne’s hair, “doesn’t have to pretend to be luggage.”
Their group headed toward the door, but Deacon didn’t follow them.
“Dash?” Ethan said over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”
Deacon turned toward Vivienne and said, “Do you want to be luggage, Vivienne?”
“Not really.” She had done it before. One of the joys of being the shortest was that she was either put in the trunk or stuck sitting on someone’s lap. Her stomach fluttered. How did she casually suggest that?
“I’m going to walk,” Deacon said with a crooked smile. “Would you like to join me?”
Emily’s eyes widened, and she nodded as if she had been the one to whom Deacon had extended the invitation.
“It’s a little far.”
He rolled his eyes and asked Ethan to borrow his coat.
“Sure thing.” They exchanged a few quiet words. Ethan didn’t look happy, but he rejoined Nicola near the exit.
“Here,” Deacon said, handing his own sweatshirt to her.
Vivienne pushed it back at him. “I’m not cold.” They had the heating in the place jacked up way too high.
“Put it on.” He offered it to her once more. “Please?” His eyes softened as the corner of his lips lifted.
He could have asked her to do just about anything and she would have said yes. Vivienne pulled his sweatshirt over her head. The moment everyone walked through the door, she became hyperaware that she and Deacon were alone.
“Are we really walking all the way back to campus?” she asked, tucking her nose inside the neck of his top and inhaling his spicy cologne.
“What do you think?”
Heck. Yes. He was going to bring her on her first proper flight! She’d flown around campus but that was it. This was going to be amazing. “Before we leave, I’m going to run to the restroom for a minute.”
“I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
In the closet that served as the unisex restroom, Vivienne considered her reflection in the cracked mirror and unflattering fluorescent light. Pale. She looked pale. She pinched her cheeks until they were pink. Emily had curled her hair, but it had gone flat. She really needed a haircut. Her split ends were getting out of control. She finger-combed it, trying to breathe life back into the heavy strands.
If only she had brought some lip gloss or something.
Why did it matter?
It didn’t. She wasn’t going to change who she was for some guy.
Her heart shuddered and her adrenaline came to life when she saw Deacon waiting for her by the entrance. Bad idea. Falling for him was a very, very bad idea. For all she knew, he was saying the same stuff to every other girl he met. But how did she tell her heart that?
They left the building only to run into the drunken guy, Bret, from earlier, lighting his cigarette outside the door.
“Leaving already?” He took a drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke in their direction.
The acrid stench made her cough. Why was this guy such a jerk?
“School night,” Deacon muttered, scanning the parking lot.
Bret did the same. “Looks like your friends left without you.”
Vivienne’s body felt like it was on fire. If Deacon was nervous, he didn’t let it show. Two guys from across the parking lot moved closer. She recognized them from inside.
Bret clucked his tongue, leering at her chest. “Your girlfriend’s awfully pretty.”
“Yes, she is.” Deacon laced his fingers with hers. Squeezed. “And you’re lucky I didn’t break your damned nose for touching her.”
What was he doing? “Deacon, let’s just go.”
Bret’s eyes widened. “It’s not my fault your little slut was coming on to me.”
Oh no he didn’t . . .
Slut? This guy thought she was a slut?
“As if I would ever be interested in your ugly, drunk ass,” she hissed, rage building in her chest, pulsing in her veins.
Deacon bit back a laugh.
The rest of Bret’s group left their posts beside their vehicles and came toward them. Bret dropped his cigarette, making a show of crushing the butt into the gravel at his feet. “Oh, the little bitch has claws, does she?”
“Vivienne, darling?” Deacon smiled down at her as if they weren’t facing a mob of drunk guys looking for a flight. “What do you think?”
“About what?” she snapped.
“Fight or flight?”
With her heart pounding in her ears and the group advancing toward them, the fire in her chest burned stronger than ever.
She wanted to fight. Wanted to be the one to teach these jerks a lesson. And she had no doubt that Deacon would take on every single one of them for her. But it was five against two—Well, more like one-and-a-half. There was no way they would win.
The sky beckoned her, and she whispered, “Flight.”
The woods bordering the parking lot were the safest place to lift off. Deacon hauled ass toward the trees, keeping a death grip on Vivienne’s hand. Footsteps thudded behind them, but the men hadn’t anticipated them running in that direction. Once they reached the shadows, he was ready to pick her up, but she let go and alighted toward the branches.
How long had she been at Kensington? Two months? It looked like she’d been flying her entire life. It had taken him almost six months to learn that kind of control.