“Benji.”
I barely register the voice at first.
Too focused on her.
On the way she looks at me.
But then a hand taps my shoulder.
I turn.
Chase.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asks, polite, easy, like he’s not stepping into something I don’t want to let go of.
My first instinct?
No.
Hell no.
Find your own partner.
But Esme beats me to it.
“Sure!” she says, smiling, that bright, open smile that still knocks me sideways. “You’ve been such a great host, of course.”
She pinches me lightly at the waist.
A silent behave.
I nod once, stepping back, handing her off.
But I don’t like it.
Don’t like the way his hand settles at her back.
Don’t like the way she laughs at something he says.
Don’t like the fact that I’m not the one holding her anymore.
I stand there for a second too long, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching them move across the floor.
Yeah.
I’m very aware that I’m making an ass of myself.
That this is not a good look.
Fuck it.
“Get a grip,” I mutter under my breath.
I step off the dance floor, moving to the edge, forcing myself to look away.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out, frowning.
