I’m not really at an advantage sizewise, since we’re about the same build. I calmly walk around the couch and intercept him, holding out my hand.
He doesn’t look back at me as he maneuvers his way around the coffee table. “Get your own fucking phone,” he mumbles. He catches himself by pressing his hand onto the glass and straightens back up. He laughs and attempts to back up a step, but bumps into the coffee table. The confusion on his face would be comical if I weren’t so pissed. I shake my head and raise my eyes back to his.
And one more just for show, since I’m really enjoying watching him squirm. I look down to the floor and inhale a breath. My fist is closer to him now and I have to clench it, knowing how good it would feel to punch his face in. I slide my hands out of my back pockets and fold my arms across my chest. “This isn’t… it’s not what it looks like.” He looks at me pleadingly, pointing at the girl, who’s now adjusting her barely-there skirt. He struggles to his feet but can hardly stand up straight. “Holder,” he says, pushing the girl off his lap. I can see the fear settle in when it clicks-when he finally realizes that the last person he thought would be here tonight actually showed up.
Grayson tears his mouth away from hers and tilts his head back, looking up at me with glossed-over eyes. If I have to watch him palm this chick’s breast one more time without a single ounce of respect for his relationship with Les, I’ll rip his fucking hand off. “Hey,” I finally say, unable to contain my silence a second longer. I would take out my phone so that I’d have evidence, but I couldn’t do that to Les. I remain behind them for several minutes while the party continues around us, everyone completely unaware that I’m a fraction away from losing my mind. Considering the grip he has on the chick straddling his lap, I doubt he’ll notice for a while. I don’t know how long it’ll take him to notice I’m here. I’m standing behind the couch, looking down at him. I slide my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and hope to hell I can keep them there. That’s why, right now, this son-of-a-bitch is my number-one priority. She has no idea how hard it is to sit back and not let it be my business. She’s never been a brother before, though. Les has reminded me more than once that it’s not my business. My heart rate is signaling for me to just walk away.
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