She listens to me over him.
Wayne passes, distracted by the noise from downstairs. He doesn’t even glance our way. Sammie sags against the wall, relief spilling from her shoulders—but her eyes flick back to me, into the dark where she knows I’m standing.
And I smile.
The second Wayne disappears into the roar of the living room, I peel back into the chaos, letting the crowd swallow me. Music pounds, bodies sway, laughter slams against the walls. Costumes blur past in flashes of glitter, masks, and makeup.
I grab a drink off the counter. The liquor burns down my throat, but it doesn’t dull the heat crawling through my veins. My gaze locks on Sammie across the room.
She’s trying so damn hard to look normal. She laughs when a friend bumps her shoulder, nods along to something someone says, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear like she isn’t unraveling inside.
But I see it.
I see the way she checks her phone, sliding it back into her pocket too quickly. I see how her eyes keep flicking toward the corners, searching for me. Wanting me.
The alcohol doesn’t calm me. It just sharpens the edge. Causing the pulse in my pants to rage.
Then he does it. Some guy with swagger in his step, cuts through the crowd and leans too close to Sammie.
I see her stiffen. I see her polite smile falter. He says something I can’t hear over the music, but I don’t need the words. I see his hand brush her arm, too casual, too bold.
My grip on the glass tightens until I think it’ll shatter.
She shakes her head. I know she does. She pulls back, declines. But that doesn’t matter. He dared to ask. He dared to think he could put his hands on her.
The fury that rips through me is instant, violent. My jaw grinds, my vision tunnels, every instinct screaming to storm across the room and rip his throat out.
But then she glances toward me.
Her eyes flick over the crowd, landing where I stand in the shadows, half-hidden. Her lips part, and I see it; her refusal wasn’t for politeness’ sake. It was for me.
Because even when another man asks, she knows the truth.
She only dances with me.
I move. Not toward her, not yet. I circle the party instead, slipping between clusters of bodies, always keeping her in view.From the staircase, from the doorway, from the back corner of the kitchen, I watch.
She feels me. I know she does. Her skin glows with it, her movements sharper, restless, like she’s trying to escape something she secretly doesn’t want to escape.
I pull my phone from my pocket, thumbs quick.
You blush too easily. He saw it. I saw it. Don’t make me come over there and show everyone why you turned him down.
I hit send.
Across the room, her phone buzzes in her pocket. She stiffens, glances around, then slips it out just enough to read. The flush blooms instantly on her cheeks, climbing down her neck.
My chest tightens, my body wired so tight it hurts. Watching her try to hide her reaction, knowingIput that look on her face from twenty feet away—it’s better than the drink in my hand, better than the noise and chaos.
It’s control.
And it isn’t enough.
Tonight will not end with shadows. Tonight, I will stop hiding.
Chapter Six
Sammie
