The icy night air hit my face like a hand but did nothing to disperse the fog of vodka and heartbreak that muddled every thought. I staggered back from the rear exit, away from the music, away from Daniel's brooding form in those jeans and leather jacket as Madison hung on his arm like he was hers.
Maybe she did own him. Or maybe everything that happend between us was one sick joke.
I slid down, with my back slammed against the wall. Not bothering to care that my dress was riding up or so low I'd be sitting on cold, dirty ground. My heels dug into the earth. My vision blurred with tears.
"Brook?" Jayce's voice came from above. I looked up and saw him standing there, concern etched on his face. Of course he'd followed.
"Go away," I said, but it was weak.
"Not happening." He sat next to me, indifferent to the possibility of ruining his jeans." "Talk to me. What's going on?"
