➳ 𝐇𝐄 '𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

⊰ 𝟛 ⊱

Tate Carver ^ 

IT WAS JUST A DREAM.

I pull away from Tate. my eyes eagerly searching for Lyle who had now vanished from the staircase.

I could feel my heart thudding against my chest. A lump of regret forming in the back of my throat I could barely swallow. The guilt had set in, and suddenly I didn't feel so drunk anymore. I wanted to throw up.

"Tate," I drop my arms from his neck, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was doing."

The soft smile on his mouth slowly began fading into realization. I knew Tate was aware I had used him to get a reaction out of Lyle. However, something about the conceited glint his eyes held told me something else entirely.

Tate was amused by the fact I had used him to piss off Lyle.

Tate tucks my hair behind my ear, "Hey, don't worry about it. The asshole kissed my girl. I got to kiss his, call it even."

My eyebrows crease into a puzzling line of questions wanting desperately to be answered. Lyle kissed Tate's girl? Tate has a girlfriend. . . or had. I felt even worse regardless.

"Tate, I'm not Lyle's girl. I barely know him." I almost laugh at the ridiculous thought.

"Does he know that?" Tate's smiling now. he has dimples just like Lyle.

Lyle's voice was now heard from behind me, "Get the fuck out of my way! move, I said fucking move." His well-built figure pushing and shoving his way through the crowd as he advanced towards Tate and me.

I press my palm to my forehead. My head felt like it was about to burst. Everything was spinning, and suddenly the music was too loud. Too deafening, I couldn't even hear myself think anymore.

I look up to find Lyle pushing at Tate's shoulder so hard he almost falls backward, "You piece of fucking shit, she's drunk." His tattooed hands bawling into a fist.

Without thinking, I lunge for Lyle and Tate. I stand between the two as if I'm some sort of barrier. My hand pressed firmly on Lyle's chest.

"Lyle, don't!" I breathe out as the room spins. "I kissed him, okay?"

Lyle slaps my hand from his chest. almost too aggressively, like he's repulsed by the fact I'm even touching him. the idea stings a little, but I'm not particularly sure why.

"Bull fucking shit, Evie." Lyle grabs my chin, inspecting my face. "You're wasted. you have no idea what the hell you're doing." He then lets go of me.

I knew by the end of the night, Lyle and Tate would sooner or later end up beating each other to a bloody pulp. Thanks to the little act I put on to piss Lyle off in the first place.

But I still didn't see what was so wrong with Tate. I kissed him. he didn't force me. He didn't do anything remotely inappropriate, despite Lyle's accusations of him being a piece of shit.

Until I was given enough reason to stay away from Tate, I wouldn't.

"Don't you ever touch her again, especially when she's drunk. I'll fucking kill you."

"Ah, come on, Lyle. You really wanna fight me over some pretty girl? there's plenty of pretty girls here. why don't you go take your pick, and I'll keep this one, huh? what do you say?"

Tate was intentionally trying to get a rise out of Lyle. the cocky smirk he was fighting to keep off the corner of his lips was deceiving him. Whatever the reasoning behind their personal vendetta was, was beyond me. All I knew was that the two hated each other, which left me with more lingering questions about Lyle Carver.