She sighs. “Man, not even official and you’re meeting his parents. He must really like you. I haven’t even met Remy’s family yet, if that tells you anything.”
My response dies on my tongue as my eyes trail toward the bar. I spot Wes instantly, and then my focus moves to the girl standing beside him. My spine stiffens. “Um, is that his ex?”
Quinn’s head snaps to the bar. “Well, shit. She better not be a fan of Remy’s band.” Dani says something to Wes, offering him a (flirtatious?) smile that he doesn’t return. She lightly touches his arm, and my heart squeezes. “Maybe you should go over there…”
I force myself to look away, ignoring the pit in my stomach. “He’s not my boyfriend. He can talk to his ex if he wants to.”
I ignore Quinn’s look of disbelief. “Alright, Ivy. If you say so.”
Five endless minutes pass, and I do everything in my power to refrain from looking back at the bar. Quinn doesn’t feel so compelled, shooting conspicuous glances in their direction. “Okay, he’s coming now,” she tells me, and my shoulders visibly relax. “Ask him about Satan.”
I put my finger to my lips. “Shh.”
“Sorry about that,” Wes says, sidling up beside me with a beer in his hand. “The bartender took forever.”
I glance at Quinn, who mouths,ask him!
I swallow, already regretting the words that come out of my mouth. “Was that, um, Dani?”
I peek up only to find him grimacing. “Yeah, that was her. Guess she’s a fan of the band, Quinn.”
“Motherfucker,” Quinn mutters.
“What did she, um, say to you?” I ask, hoping I’m not overstepping. Technically, he owes me no explanation. He can talk to whatever girls he wants. Hell, he can do more than talk to them—but tell that to the jealousy clawing its way up my chest for the second time tonight.
Wes’s eyes soften as they gaze into mine, almost like he can sense the direction of my thoughts. He should call me out on it, but of course, he won’t. He doesn’t. “She wanted to know what I’m doing here, that’s all. She said she’s on a date.”
“So, she abandoned her date to go talk to her ex-boyfriend?” Quinn blurts, saying the words I can’t. “Interesting.”
Wes snorts. “Trust me, I’m in agreement. But that’s Dani for you. I never know what the fuck’s going on in her head, even when we were dating.”
I want to press for more information, but decide against it. Dani’s presence is just another problem to add to the long, long list. Needing a second to collect my thoughts, I excuse myself to the bathroom, ignoring Wes’s look of concern. I just feel…on edge. Overstimulated. Off-balance and wound tight.
Maybe coming here was a bad idea after all.
I take my turn in the bathroom, lingering a bit longer than necessary at the sink, and head back out to the bar.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get more overwhelming, I spot Wes…with two girls practically hanging all over him.Quinn’s nowhere in sight, probably visiting Remy backstage, and I stand there like a statue, watching his fan girls get too close, too familiar, tooeverything.I can tell by the tense set of his mouth that he’s unhappy, but he’s too nice to tell them to leave him alone. I can’t deny that I wish he would. God, I wish he would.
And there it is again. Jealousy. It rises up like a wave, churning inside me until I’m physically nauseous. Anger’s right behind it, ripping through me like a hurricane, whipping these furious thoughts around my head.
How dare they step into his space uninvited? How dare they put their hands on him without permission? How dare they assume they’re entitled to him just because he’s handsome and kind and popular? How dare they?—
“I recognize that expression,” says an unwelcome voice. “You’re planning a murder. Or two, by the look of it.”
Stiffening at Dani’s proximity, I move my gaze off Wes’s fan club and onto Wes’s ex. Just like the last time I saw her, she looks flawless, sleek brown hair falling straight to her waist, her bronze skin practically glowing.
I open my mouth, but my reply gets stuck in my throat. My face flames as I try again. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” She nods back to Wes. “You better get the fuck used tothatif you’re gonna date Wes Tucker. It happens constantly. Restaurants. Grocery stores. Fuckinggas stations. Girls treat him like campus property. And Wes is too nice to tell them to fuck off. It drove me up a wall when we were dating.”
“Well, we’re not dating,” I mumble, my mind stuck on Wes’s past comments about Dani’s “jealousy issues.” Unfortunately, tonight I understand her reactions more than I ever cared to.
She smirks. “Okay, I’ll play along.”
“We’re not,” I repeat.
