“Friendship,” Dylan quips. “Something you might recognize if you weren’t so busy talking about yourself all the time.”
I inhale sharply. Dylan’sneverbeen this direct with Garrett before. Usually, he maintains a cool politeness, keeping his opinions to himself—at least to Garrett’s face.
“Dylan,” I start, not even sure what I’m going to say.
“We’re leaving,” Garrett announces. His eyes remain locked on Dylan. “I have an early meeting tomorrow, anyway.”
The silence that follows feels endless.
Cam and Nila share another one of those looks—the kind married couples have that lets them exchange entire conversations without saying a word.
Dylan’s jaw is set, his eyes narrowed, but he doesn’t argue.
“It was nice meeting you both,” Garrett says to Cam and Nila. “Cheyenne?”
It’s not a question, not really. I look at Dylan, whose expression has shifted from anger to something more complex—concern, maybe? Disappointment? I can’t quite read it.
“I’ll see you at Thanksgiving,” I tell him, trying to sound normal, like my boyfriend isn’t currently dragging me away from a party over a few harmless jokes.
Dylan nods. “Looking forward to it, Chey.”
As Garrett leads me toward the house, I can feel the weight of everyone’s stares boring into my skull. I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and force a smile, convincing myself that this is all fine.
Please let Thanksgiving be better than tonight.
Chapter Three
Dylan
I sit up on the workout bench. My muscles are burning in that satisfying way that tells me I’ve pushed myself enough for one day. The weight room is pretty quiet this morning. Most of the guys are probably sleeping off last night’s party.
Not me, though.
I’ve always been a morning-after workout kind of guy.
I grab my water bottle and take a long sip, then reach for my phone sitting on the bench beside me. Scrolling through social media is my post-workout ritual—not that I’d ever admit how much time I actually spend on it.
Looks like my party was a hit.
The team’s official Instagram account posted a group shot with a caption about team bonding before the holiday break.I tap the like button, smirking at how professional we all look, considering half the guys were three drinks in by then.
My tagged photos are much more interesting. I stop at the one of me with the two blonde models from last night—Kristin and ... Jessica? Jennifer? Something with a J. They’re pressed against either side of me and looking drop-dead gorgeous. I look good, too—relaxed, confident. It’s exactly the image I want to project.
Ten thousand likes already. Not bad.
I smash the like button, share it to my story, and keep scrolling. But I freeze when I see a photo Genna posted. It’s of her with Cheyenne and Garrett, all three holding drinks in my kitchen. Garrett’s arm is possessively wrapped around Chey’s waist, his face wearing that smug expression that makes me want to punch something. Cheyenne is smiling, too, but it’s not her real smile—not the one that crinkles the corners of her eyes and makes her look like she’s about to burst into laughter at any second.
No, this is her posed smile. Her boyfriend-is-watching smile.
My thumb hovers over the screen, not sure whether to like it or keep scrolling. Why does seeing them together always make my jaw clench?
“Dylan Williamston checking his social media before he’s even cooled down. Some things never change.”
I look up to see Kade approaching, fresh from the shower, his dark hair still damp.
“Just seeing if anyone captured my good side,” I quip, locking my phone screen. “Spoiler alert: they all did.”
Kade drops onto the bench beside me, the familiar scent of his fancy sandalwood soap filling the space between us. “How’s your head feeling this morning? You were putting them back pretty good by the time Ella and I left.”
