We make our way through the crowd, and a few former classmates smile or wave, clearly trying to catch Elias's attention.
"Vultures," James mutters under his breath as we reach the table. "Fair warning. Mia and her minions are over by the bar. They've been watching the door like hawks all night."
I spot them immediately. Mia looks like she stepped off an Instagram photoshoot—blonde hair perfect, dress probably designer, surrounded by Dana and Kerry, who seem to be dressed as slightly less expensive versions of her. When Mia notices me looking, her eyes narrow.
"Ignore her," Elias says, pulling out my chair.
"Easy for you to say," I reply as I sit. "You're not the one she's plotting to murder."
Elias takes the seat beside me. "Let her try. I'd love an excuse to put her in her place. Besides, shouldn't you be better at plotting murder than her? What happened to those tiny demons hollowing her out?"
James rolls his eyes. "You two are terrible at this fake dating thing."
I blink. "What do you mean?"
"You're looking at each other like you want to devour each other," James says with a smirk. "Also, Elias hasn't stopped touching you since you walked in."
I realize he's right. Elias's hand is on my knee, his thumb grazing my bare skin. The gesture seems so natural, I hadn't even noticed.
"We're just ... committed to being convincing," I say lamely.
James snorts. "Sure, Elise, and I'm a unicorn."
Elias grins, unrepentant. "What can I say? I'm good at this."
Throughout the next hour, I'm surprised to find I'm actually ... enjoying myself. Elias is a constant presence at my side, his hand rarely leaving my waist or lower back. When he steps away briefly to get us drinks, James leans over.
"You know he's not pretending, right?" he asks, voice serious for once. "I've known Elias for years. I've never seen him like this."
Before I can respond, Elias returns, handing me a glass of wine. "What are you two conspiring about?"
"Just telling Elise embarrassing stories about you," James says smoothly.
Elias narrows his eyes. "Don't believe a word he says."
"Oh, I believe all of it," I tease, sipping my wine.
Elias's hand finds the back of my neck, fingers playing with the short hair there. The casual intimacy and possessiveness of it sends a shiver down my spine. "You really should believe your boyfriend first."
Throughout the evening, classmates approach our table to say hello—mostly to Elias, though a few acknowledge me with varying degrees of sincerity. Each time, Elias pulls me closer, making it clear we're a package deal.
Later, when the music shifts to something slower, Elias pulls me to my feet. "Dance with me."
"I'm not much of a dancer," I protest weakly.
"Neither am I, but I need an excuse to hold you."
On the dance floor, his arms wrap around me, one hand splayed across my lower back, the other holding mine against his chest. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm, and it feels as fast as mine.
"You okay?" he asks softly. "This isn't too much, is it?"
I look up at him. "No. It's ... nice. Better than I expected, actually."
"Good." He presses a kiss to my forehead. His lips linger there. "You're amazing, you know that?"
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tight. I rise on my toes and press a soft kiss to his lips, forgetting for a moment that we're surrounded by people, that this is supposed to be for show.
He responds immediately, one hand moving to cup my face as he kisses me back. It's gentle, sweet, nothing like the desperate kisses we shared on his couch, but it makes my heart race all the same.
