Unhinged by Timberlyn Scott Page A

and letting sleep take over.
That, and being with Aaron made me feel safe.
    He pressed his lips
against the top of my head as we danced around the room, the music soft and
slow. The lights had dimmed a short while ago and most of the couples had
migrated to the dance floor, too. As we moved, I closed my eyes, willing my
brain to stop spinning.
    Aaron must have
realized the effect the dancing was having on my inebriated state because he
slowed even more, our feet barely moving.
    “Who was the guy from
earlier?” Aaron asked, his voice low, soothing.
    “I told you. No one.”
    “Right. And I didn’t
believe you. That’s why I asked again. Who is he?”
    “The mechanic,” I
informed him, hating the fact that the alcohol was making my lips flap when
they shouldn’t.
    “Ahh. That explains it.”
    “I don’t think he’s the
mechanic,” I admitted.
    I could hear Aaron’s
gruff chuckle against my ear. I amused him. I knew I did.
    I amused a lot of
people these days.
    “Who do you think he
is?”
    “No idea,” I told him,
digging my fingernails into his back. I really didn’t want to talk.
    Aaron apparently took
the hint because we spent the next few minutes slow dancing until the music
disappeared. At first I thought I’d fallen asleep standing up, but then a voice
came over the sound system and the lights went out, pitching the room into
complete darkness.
    An automated voice
started talking and several strobe lights began alternating to the bass that
kicked in. What happened next was straight out of a movie. Seriously, I was
pretty sure I’d seen it before in a movie. I don’t remember which one though.
    I stayed close to Aaron
while the robotic voice rambled on about engines and cars and speed while a
series of lights drew designs along one of the walls. There were gasps and
clapping and then the lights came up to reveal a car sitting in the middle of
the room.
    “Impressive,” Aaron
stated dryly. “I’m pretty sure that’s been done before.”
    Another waiter
approached and while Aaron’s attention was snagged by the fancy sports car, I
grabbed another flute and downed it in one gulp.
    I really didn’t like
champagne; tonight’s sampling only solidified that for me.
    “You better slow down,”
Aaron stated firmly when he turned to look at me.
    I didn’t argue. There
was no point. I just wanted to go home. I’d already been there for more than
two hours and Mr. Trovato hadn’t even greeted me, although I’d seen him at
least three times and I was pretty sure he’d seen me as well.
    I don’t know if he was
purposely ignoring me or if it was just my imagination, but I was beginning to
get frustrated. As it was, the only person who’d spoken to me all night,
besides Aaron, was Aaliyah.
    Sebastian didn’t count.
    “We need to get you
some water.”
    Water was good.
    Aaron was escorting me
away from the crowd when a wave of nausea hit me. “I… I need to use the
restroom,” I told him hurriedly.
    “I’ll take you,” he
replied softly, taking my arm.
    “No,” I insisted,
pulling back from him. “I’ll… I’ll be right back.”
    I needed some air and I
didn’t want Aaron following me in the event that I did get sick. I met his gaze
and waited until he nodded. His eyes met mine briefly, but then I took off for
the door. Out in the hall, the sound of my heels on the marble floor made my
ears ring, but then blessedly I was on the carpet. When I stumbled once,
sliding my hand along the wall to keep myself upright, I knew I’d had too much
to drink. As the stairs came into view, I suddenly wondered just how I was
going to safely make it down without falling on my face and rolling my way to
the first floor.
    I stopped at the top
and peered down, taking a deep breath and trying to clear the fuzziness from my
head. I’d walked down plenty of stairs in my life. Surely I could handle a few
more.
    A strong but gentle
hand gripped my arm and I looked up, expecting to see Aaron standing behind