Toward Stella.
Of course.
Drew, meanwhile, was looking at me.
Only me.
Even from that distance, I could feel it.
Stella noticed.
“He really watches you,” she said.
I swallowed.
“It’s fake.”
“Is it?”
I turned back to the ocean too fast.
She did not push.
Which made me hate her a little less.
Maybe.
Behind us, the bonfire roared higher as someone threw on another piece of driftwood. The crowd noise swelled, then faded again. Life moving on. Gossip resetting. Men cooling down because two women had chosen not to be the battlefield.
Stella lifted her can.
“To not being fought over like property.”
I looked at her.
Then clinked mine lightly against hers.
“To men learning to shut up.”
Her smile turned real.
“Good luck with that.”
I glanced back one more time.
Drew was still watching me, jaw tight, eyes dark, his jersey on my body and his ex somewhere in the night and Tristan Vale finally forced to hear what he had done out loud.
Everything was messy.
Everything was dangerous.
Everything about Drew Travers had become harder to keep at a distance.
And maybe that was the real problem.
Not Casey.
Not Tristan.
