Punk's sarcasm dies in her throat. She pats Atlas cheek like a well-behaved pet and I almost choke on my drink. “Well, because Asher—”
Atlas kisses her. How many fucking drinks has she had? Pretty sure I counted the same amount as Luce and Ivy and I don't see them being all fucking sloppy.
Camille's hand lands on my thigh and I tense, jaw going tight. “Shall we go?”
“You can,” I say, forcing her hand off my thigh.
She rolls her eyes, turning to Ivy opposite us when she notices her watching. I see it. I know what's coming and I can't do shit to shut her up.
Camille's grip on her glass tightens, her eyes narrowed when she notices Ivy's perfect art of pretending to not give a fuck.
“Jeez,” Camille flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Anyone would think he'd let it go already!”
Music isn't loud enough to drown out Camille's bullshit.
“Let what go?” Jord asks, not realizing he's stepping in dog shit.
Camille's eyes flash with triumph, aimed directly at Ivy, who's laughing at something Luce just said. “Oh, Asher's pissed because he found out I cheated on him. Now he's trying to get even with me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Camille!” My head snaps to her. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”
It's too late.
Ivy's eyes are on me, all laughter gone.
Luce leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if Camille just answered everything, and Jord looks like he might just swing on a girl.
“She's lying,” I say blandly, to no one else but Ivy because she's the only one that matters. But then what can I follow up with?She's lying but I'm also not gonna leave her?
Yeah. Because that's going to go down fucking great.
Ivy's gaze slides off me like I'm nothing. She turns back to Luce, her laugh a little too loud to not be obvious that she hasn't been watching. And is pissed. Again.
I down the rest of my whiskey, letting the burn anchor me to this seat when every instinct screams to cross the space between us.
Atlas shoots me a look that saysdon't, but he's too busy keeping Punk from falling off her chair to do anything about it.
“I need another drink,” Camille announces, standing. She waits, expecting me to follow like a trained fucking dog.
I don't move.
Her jaw tightens. “Asher—”
I stare up at her, bored.
She storms off, heels clicking against the floor, and I couldn't give less of a fuck where she ends up.
Luce leans over to whisper something in Ivy's ear, and Ivy's response is to toss back her—what is that, her fourth? Fifth?—drink, and stand. They head toward the dance floor, weaving through bodies until the crowd swallows them whole.
My fingers drum against the table. Once. Twice.
“You good?” Jord's voice cuts through my focus.
I don't answer. My eyes track Ivy through the mass of people, her black dress catching the strobe lights, turning her into something otherworldly. Untouchable.
Except I've touched her. Tasted her. Heard her say my name like it was the last one she'd ever whisper.
A guy steps into her space. Some asshole in a button-up with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He says something that makes Ivy smile. Not the real smile, the one she gives strangers.
