“Stay,” I murmur.
She relaxes in my embrace, glaring at Brielle.
Brielle’s smile tightens. “Aw. That’s cute. But I’m sure your little…girlfriend wouldn’t mind if I borrow you.”
“I do,” I say.
She blinks. “What?”
“I mind.”
The music pounds around us, but a small pocket of space has opened, people sensing tension the way sharks sense blood. “I’m here with Amy,” I continue, each word deliberate. “Plus, I’m not interested. Not now, or ever.”
Her expression hardens with disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“No.”
She glances at Amy with open hostility. “Her? Seriously?”
Something in me snaps.
“Yeah. Her. Because she’s smart, she’s kind, and she doesn’t treat people like they’re disposable.”
Brielle’s face flushes an ugly red. “You’ll regret this.”
“Doubt it.”
For a beat, I think she might lash out. Instead, she spins on her heel and disappears into the crowd, muttering something vicious over her shoulder.
Amy is staring at me like I just spoke another language. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Yes I did. Because you matter. Because the idea of you thinking I’d choose anyone else makes my chest feel like it’s caving in.
Instead of speaking, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers brushing her cheek. She leans into the touch without realizing it, making my heart swell. “Because I wanted you to know, I’m not looking at anyone else.”
Her breath catches.
For a second we just stand there, the party fading into background noise, the world narrowing to the space between us. Instead of using more words, I kiss her.
One hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, and she makes a small startled sound before melting into me, her fingers clutching the front of my shirt like she needs something solid to hold onto. She tastes like fruit punch and something sweetly, unmistakably her.
The crowd whoops somewhere nearby, but I don’t care. Nothing exists outside the warmth of her mouth, the way she fits against me like this is exactly where she was meant to be.
Then when Amy pulls back, something splashes across her shoulder and chest. A red tide of jungle juice soaks into the pristine white fabric.
“Sorry,” one of the Delta Phi rushes mumbles.
Amy looks down at herself, stunned, cheeks flushing deep pink as the liquid clings and darkens the thin material.
My jaw tightens. Across the room, I catch a glimpse of red fabric and gold heels disappearing into the crowd.
“How could I just walk away? Why didn’t I listen to her?” What made me believe Amy would post that photo?
Before I can answer my own questions, my phone buzzes in my pocket, startling me. I almost ignore it, but something tells me it’s important. Pulling it out, I wait for the blue dots to finish before reading.
Mark:
Hey. You around this week?
