Fuck!
I grab a tissue from the dispenser and start wiping frantically just as the door swings open with a bang and a drunk guy stumbles in, eyes unfocused, movements uncoordinated.
He crashes into me, sending me stumbling sideways into the sink.
The tissue smears lipstick across my cheek instead of removing it cleanly.
“Hey there,” he slurs, leaning way too close. His breath reeks of alcohol. “What the fuck you staring at?”
“Nothing,” I say firmly, trying to edge past him toward the door. Alarm bells are ringing in my head. This guy is drunk and dangerous.
“Move,” I say, dropping my voice to Ash’s register, trying to sound masculine and intimidating.
It doesn’t work. He just laughs.
I grab my bag from the floor at my feet and shove past him hard, using my shoulder to force space, and bolt for the door.
Just then, Dylan rounds the corner ahead of me, his boots loud on the old tile, when the waitress from earlier emerges fromthe kitchen, backing through the swinging doors with a tray of drinks held high.
“Oh! Sorry, coming through!” she chirps, nearly running straight into him.
He shifts quickly to catch the tray, hand brushing her elbow. “You okay?” he asks.
She giggles. “Yeah, all good! You’ve got quick reflexes.”
Dylan’s mouth curves into that easy grin, the one that softens everything about him.
Perfect.
I move.
I slide my backpack off one shoulder and wedge it behind the trash can in the corner of the hallway. My heart hammers as the zipper snags on something, but I force it down, tucking the strap out of sight.
Dylan laughs at something she says. I snap around. He hasn’t noticed.
Good. Then I hurry toward him to pass him, but he’s stepping in my path. “Coming to check on you.” He stares at me, head tilted to the side.
My heart is thundering. “I’m fine,” I say, deepening my voice, roughening the edges. “Just needed some air.”
I don’t give him time to study me too closely. I dip my head and move past him, pulse racing, forcing myself not to look back as I return to the table.
I drop into my seat heavily, trying to appear as casual as possible. “Fuck, I’m starving,” I mutter, reaching for food immediately. Dylan joins us within moments.
All four of them are staring at me.
Mason’s eyes are narrowed. Dylan’s gaze is wide with surprise. Jasper’s expression is unreadable. Slater is watching me carefully.
“What happened to you?” Mason asks.
I stiffen, my hand freezing halfway to the spring rolls. “Oh, I just got some fresh air.” I reach up to my hair, pretending to scratch but actually checking that the wig is straight. I glance down at my clothes quickly. Everything feels correct.
“You have lipstick on the corner of your mouth,” Jasper says flatly. “And some on your collar.”
My heart stops completely.
The smear. The drunk guy. The rushed cleaning job.
“Oh.” I force out a laugh that sounds completely unconvincing even to me. “Yeah, sorry. Was just making out with this girl. She was all over me. Very aggressive.”
