The QB Bad Boy and Me

(5) "Where are you off to?"

"Hey cheer pear."

I turn around and feel my mood plummeting south as I come face to face with Drayton, looking spectacularly gorgeous in a casual white T-shirt that shows off his sleeve tattoo and a pair of black jeans.

"Leave me alone!"

"This is my friend Grayson," he continues as though I haven't spoken. He points at the obviously plastered guy standing next to him. He's a little shorter than Drayton but he has a nice toned build and sandy blonde hair that's styled with an unkempt look about it.

"Hey Grayson," I smile as Tim's arm suddenly comes around in front of my face offering another drink. I take it with appreciation but don't miss the glare that gets fired towards him from a certain quarterback. "Look if you're anything like Drayton then I have nothing to say to you. But if you're a decent person then it's a pleasure."

Grayson slowly nods with an unsure expression as Drayton rolls his eyes. "Ignore her," he tells him without taking his eyes off mine. "She's got a stick up her ass."

"The hell I do!" I shout with an even louder tone than I'd been previously using. "You're just an asshole and I don't like you. So cheers and piss off!" I raise my bottle with a sarcastic smile before I tip it back, letting the bitter drink flow down my throat as quickly as I can.

As quickly as he'd appeared, he disappears again and I spend the next few hours drinking my weight in alcohol, dancing with whoever wants to dance with me and desperately trying but failing to get that idiot off my mind.

I'm not surprised that he'd been here but I am disappointed. And yet I'm not disappointed and that's more disappointing than anything else.

•

I can't find Spencer anywhere and the guy that's been grinding against me with as much grace as a fish on land smells like literal urine. This isn't how I'd seen the night turning out at all.

"I'm gonna— not dance with you anymore." I don't bother coming up with a tactful excuse because honestly if this guy has so little personal hygiene that he smells like a toilet bowl then he doesn't deserve tact.

I push through the crowd of bodies and out onto the footpath, the night air is clean and purifies my lungs as I inhale and rid myself of the clammy toxic scent I'd been assaulted with for the last two hours. That is until I turn around and get a large cloud of smoke exhaled straight into my face.

"Where are you off to?" Drayton chuffs on his cigarette with one hand in his pocket, looking every bit as relaxed as he usually does.

"I told you to stay out of my way," I hiss with a slurred voice as I pull my cellphone out of my bra and dial Spencer's number. "Seriously, go and shag a bimbo in the alleyway. That's as classy as you get isn't it?"

He rolls his eyes and throws the butt of his cigarette on to the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his shoe. He's about to bite back when Spencer answers my phone call.

"Where are you?!" I yelp with concern.

"Girl, where are you!" she shouts with drunken excitement. "I was looking for you but I couldn't find you so I thought you must have left with that guy so I left with Tim."

"You left me here?!" Drayton furrows his brows, watching me with pointed interest and an unreadable expression. I turn my back to him and stare at the cracked pavement that's littered with cigarette butts and empty bottles. "Why would you leave me here?"

"I thought you left me and I didn't get mad," she scoffs.

"Whatever," I snap. We're both too drunk to have any reasonable conversation so I hang up the phone and start walking in the direction of the train station, avoiding the odd group of intoxicated teenagers that are loitering outside, stumbling towards or away from the club doors.