It’s hungry.Possessive.A little messy around the edges.His fingers press into my hip, just shy of painful.I can taste alcohol on his tongue.There’s a roar in my ears that might be the band or might be the blood rushing in my head.I kiss him back, because I love him, because my body responds even when my brain is scrambling.When he finally pulls back, my lips feel swollen.The room feels brighter, louder.I swear I hear a chuckled,"Well that wasn’t wholesome."But I am so focused on Nate, I ignore it.
“There she is,” he murmurs against my mouth, hand sliding lower.“My good luck charm.”
I clear my throat, cheeks burning when I notice a few phones pointed our way.“You’re… drunk.”
“Buzzed,” he corrects, grinning.“I’m allowed to celebrate once in a while, aren’t I...Especially when I have the most beautiful woman in the room on my arm.”
The compliment feels wrong.Too much like a line rehearsed or like a man trying to convince himself of something.His hand dips, fingers splaying over my ass in a way that makes me jerk.
“Nate.”I grab his wrist, forcing a laugh.“We’re in public.”
He leans in, voice low and hot against my ear.“That’s kind of the point.”
Something in my stomach twists.
We make the rounds.Or rather, he does, with me in orbit.Every few steps, someone stops him, clapping his shoulder, clinking glasses.
PR reps beam when they see us.“You two look incredible.The fans are going to go insane over these photos.”
Box holders shake his hand, then mine.“Lucky guy,” one of them jokes, eyes lingering a second too long on my neckline.“You clean up nice, sweetheart.”
I push the anxious bubble of nausea down, and I smile until my face hurts.I don’t drink.I nurse a single glass of sparkling water, my mouth dry and metallic from the long day and the makeup and the bright lights making me hot.My feet scream in the heels.My head pulses.
“Hey,” I whisper at one point, tugging at Nate’s sleeve while he listens to some long-winded story from the GM.“How long do we have to stay?I think I’m hitting my limit.”
He glances down at me, irritation flashing too fast for him to hide.“You just got here.”
“It’s been almost two hours,” I say softly.“You promised we could sneak out early, remember?I’m really not feeling great.”
His jaw ticks.“Tessa, come on.It’s one night.You can’t support me for a few hours?”
The words sting, this doesn't feel like my Nate, and I have no idea how to handle him like this.I pull my hand back.“That’s not what I said.”
He exhales through his nose, looking past me at someone waving him over.“We’ll talk about it later, okay?Just… give me tonight.”
He’s gone again before I can answer.I stand there, clutch tightening in my hand, feeling more and more like a prop someone forgot to put away.I feel like I am experiencing whiplash, and my emotions threaten to take me over.I scan the room looking for anything to pull my attention, maybe someone I can spend time with.I feel exposed and vulnerable for some reason and need reassurance or comfort.
Near the bar, I spot Aaron and Brielle.They’re mid-argument, Aaron’s shoulders are tight, his expression tired in a way that looks familiar.Brielle has that brittle, perfect look she gets when she smiles too wide, like her face might crack from the effort.
He says something I can’t hear.She rolls her eyes.He shakes his head and walks away, leaving her standing there alone.
She doesn’t watch him go; instead, she watches Nate.The look on her face makes my stomach drop.Possession.Regret.Calculation.
I tell myself I’m being dramatic, reading into things because I’m tired.Because my brain has turned into a conspiracy theorist to protect my heart.I turn away, trying to focus on something, anything else.I don’t see Nate until he’s right in front of me again, moving with a sudden, urgent energy that feels… off.
“There you are,” he says, grabbing my waist.“Come here.”
“Wait, Nat...”
He doesn’t wait.He kisses me again, hard, his hand sliding down to grab a handful of my ass, dress riding up dangerously.I yelp against his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders to keep from tipping over in the heels.
Somewhere in the blur, I hear a chorus of whoops, a flash of cameras, a delighted voice saying, “Oh my god, perfect.”
I try to pull back, to catch my breath.“Nate, what are you...”
His gaze is over my shoulder, a cruel little curl at the corner of his mouth I’ve never seen before.I turn my head and see her.
Brielle is still at the bar, hand frozen around the stem of her champagne glass, eyes narrowed, mouth tight.
