I looked down at my drink so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
“Oh my God,” Maya breathed.
I swallowed. “They’re probably looking at you.”
That was the logical explanation.
Maya was the kind of pretty that drew attention before she even opened her mouth. Tall, blonde, tiny waist, glossy everything. Men noticed her. They always noticed her. It was practically atmospheric at this point.
She made a thoughtful sound beside me. “Mm. Maybe.”
I ignored the smug note in her voice.
Unfortunately, the last few hours had already proven that most men in this room did, in fact, have functioning eyeballs. At least four had approached our table, and every single one of them had spoken directly to Maya like I was decorative furniture.
Not that I needed random men buying me drinks.
I didn’t.
But basic manners would’ve been nice.
If two women are sitting together, maybe acknowledge both of them? Even if one of us wasn’t your type and the other one clearly was? That seemed like a low bar to clear and yet, somehow, several had failed.
I took another sip.
Maya leaned in closer, practically vibrating now. “Oh.”
“What now?”
“They’re moving.”
I looked up just in time to see the men at the biker table standing.
My entire body went still.
There were four of them coming our way.
No.
Five.
One stayed behind for a second to finish whatever he was saying to another guy, then he followed too.
They crossed the room with the kind of confidence that made people shift without being asked. Not a big dramatic scene. Nobody parted like the Red Sea. But space opened for them anyway. People moved chairs. Adjusted. Stepped aside.
I told myself it was because they were large men and not because they carried themselves like they expected the world to make room.
My pulse picked up.
“Oh great,” I muttered.
Before I could decide whether that was dread or anticipation, they reached our section.
The empty chairs at the table across from us scraped back.
Then suddenly they were there.
Right there.
