I shrug, playing along. “Everyone lies, Oopsie.”
She nods solemnly, then waves at the bartender.
Nate slings a towel over his shoulder, giving us both a knowing look as he approaches.
“What can I get for you, Pink Ladies?” His smirk is in full effect—effortless charm, just enough heat to tempt, but not my type.
Daisy leans onto the cherry-wood bar, a sly smile curving her lips. “Are you on the menu?”
He chuckles. “Maybe later.”
Despite the flirtation, nothing ever comes of it. Daisy always leaves with the pack, no matter how much she plays with him. I think she has as many commitment issues as I do, but we don’t talk about it.
“I’ll take a Coolatta with raspberries,” I say before she can flash him any more cleavage.
Daisy tilts her head, pushing off the bar. “Same. And a round of shots for the team.”
I toss two hundred dollar bills on the counter and meet Nate’s gaze. “Keep the change.”
His grin widens as he cashes us out, mixing our drinks before filling a tray with neon shots: watermelon pucker and caramel apple.
Daisy carries my drink, leading the way back to our tables, past the pounding bass of the dance floor. I set the tray of shots down and glance at the dancers—Twinkle’salready out there, ass shaking, body moving in time with the beat.
I take my drink from Daisy and weave my way toward her. “Hey, lady, we’ve got shots.”
“Dance with me!” She snatches my free hand, pulling me deeper into the tangle of bodies.
She twirls beneath our linked hands, spinning in a burst of glitter and sweat before extending our touch as far as possible. A beta catches her from behind, and she moves with him—fluid, effortless.
The memory of Landon and me dancing slams into me. A sharp inhale. Two months. Two long, painful months. And still I can’t forget. Little moments bring it roaring back.
“Fancy moves,” I tease, trying to maintain some semblance of control even though my heart feels like it’s about to leap out of my chest.
“Maybe I’m trying to impress you,” he says, voice a rough purr that makes my knees go weak.
“You already did that back at the house,” I reply, half out of breath. “With the flowers.”
He huffs a laugh, pulling me in closer so my chest brushes his. “I’ll have to keep working on it, then. Can’t let you get bored.”
Fuck. Why can’t it just stay in the past? The mark on my neck burns as if it knows I’m not with him anymore, that it’s a matter of time before it fades.
I let her go, downing my drink too fast. Brain freeze hits instantly; a fitting punishment for letting even the faintest thought of him slip in. Pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth, I push through the throng of bodies and drop my half-empty glass onto a passing waitress’s tray.
Heading toward the bathrooms, I pass the men’s room and two betas murmuring close together.
I don’t realize I’m being followed until it’s too late.
A hand presses to my waist—warm, firm. My breathcatches, lodging in my throat. Hot breath grazes my ear as he leans in, guiding me forward.
“Shhh, you’re safe.”
Before I can struggle, he’s pushing us into the companion bathroom. The click of the lock is a gunshot to my system.
My head spins.
He lets me go, and I stumble at the sudden lack of restraint. My skin prickles where he touched. I spin to face him, heart hammering against my ribs. I suck in a broken breath.
Finn.
