louder for the whole floor to hear.
“YOU’RE THE PRETTIEST THING IN THIS ROOM.”
It pulls a smile out of me.
I try to shake it away.
Then Purple Streak’s voice bleeds into the circle again—“What—made your rounds? Neon Grey, Mikey, that guy. Booth-hopper of the night? Now you circled back, waitin’ on a turn with Andrew Harding?”
She’s mid-smirk when?—
Andrew snaps his head, wind in its wake,
his voice slamming on the brakes.
“Talia—shut the fuck up,” he grinds out, fist clenching on the backrest close to my shoulder. “Respect the booth, or bounce. Crossin’ me ain’t a fuckin’ option.”
Nico claps once,
loud enough to make everyone jump.
“Ayo! Can everybody shut up for like one fuckin’ second?”
He scans the half-circle,
as if we’re being obnoxiously loud.
“I’m goin’ on in twenty-five, havin’ a breakdown, and nobody’s told me I’m gifted yet. So we’re gonna go ‘round the booth.”Snaps twice.“Mikey—we’ll start with you, baby. Gimme some validation. Now.”
Mikey rolls his eyes. “You’re fine. Shut up.”
Then a blonde’s marching this way?—
red lips, fists forming, no smile.
Andrew sees her coming two strides out.
His eyes dart to me, then left to the exit route.
Then they hit the floor.
He scratches his brow, knowing why she’s coming and wants none of it.
“You deadass ignoring me the whole night?” Red Lips asks, eyes fuming. “Andrew, I’m literally waving at you, and you really gonna act like I’m invisible? Just show up with girls hanging all over you like I ain’t shit?”
Andrew exhales with no exit.
Either way, this doesn't end well.
Say the wrong thing, she explodes.
Say nothing, she explodes.
Talia—calm, cocky, and mocking?—
“Becauseyou ain’t.”
He lowers his head, rubs his temples,
