“Travis.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks.
“You haven’t introduced me to your date,” Max says.
“Woman. Alyssia is my woman, not just my date,” Travis corrects.
Max looks down at me. “So I’ve heard. Congratulations. Pleasure to meet you, Alyssia. I’m Max Ferreira.”
“Nice to meet you, Max,” I say, shaking the hand he offers.
Travis tightens his arm around my waist, and I can’t decide if it’s to pull me closer or to restrain himself from grabbing Max by the collar.
“I’m going to go make my rounds before I call it a night,” Annalise says, standing as far away from Max as one can get while still being a part of this quartet.
“You’re leaving early?” I ask.
She gives me a half smile. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” She doesn’t give any further explanation before heading in the opposite direction.
“Why are you still here?” Travis asks Max, drawing his attention. I couldn’t help but notice Max’s gaze tracking Annalise walking away.
“That’s a little rude,” I tell Travis, not understanding the tension between these two.
He looks over at me. “Do you remember that broken arm that I told you about?”
The one he got as a result of an accident during a race. My heart lurches into my throat at the thought of it.
Since he told me about it during our first hospital tour, I haven’t looked up the details of that race or accident.
I nod.
Wordlessly, he looks over at Max. “Meet the man responsible for it.”
“You?” I say without thinking.
Max’s lips pinch.
“I take back my ‘nice to meet you.’”
“The accident was … well, an accident,” he says, an apologetic note in his voice. “It was many years ago at this point.”
“Not long enough,” Travis replies. “You’re standing too close.”
Despite Travis’ rudeness, I can’t say I can call him out. Max might be one of the most gorgeous men in this room right now—second only to the man with his arm around my waist, naturally—but finding out he’s responsible for hurting Travis in an accident sours the charm a bit.
“Don’t you think it’s about time we let bygones be bygones?" Max suggests, and then gives an elegant shrug. “You never know, we both may need one another someday.”
Travis tuts. “It hasn’t happened yet. Don’t count on it ever happening. Now you can excuse us while I dance with the only person I want to talk to right now.”
Max dips his head and retreats as Travis takes me into his arms, spinning me.
We aren’t the only couple on the dance floor, so we don’t stand out, but Travis looks at me as if we’re the only two people in the world.
“You really don’t like him,” I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder.
“There’s nothing to like,” Travis replies. “He’ll disappear from the grid eventually. Furthermore, he’s not important. How’re your feet feeling? Dancing isn’t too hard on your feet, is it?”
“Don’t you dare stop dancing,” I warn.
