My head turns to him and I tip my chin to him, agreeing with his assessment of Freddy.
Leo pauses, tilting his head too far and leaning in. “Wait a second. Did I hear that right? Did our honest and levelheaded captain just use the ‘F’ word?” He claps him on the chest.
“Fuck off, Leo,” Troy laughs.
“Two times! You bad boy.” He winks. There’s a beat of silence before Leo smirks. “The question is… do we let Coach’s daughter sink with that loser ship, or do we swoop in?”
The table erupts with half-serious suggestions as the guys lean in, some laughing, some dead serious. Part of me likes how protective they are of her. Not because they think she’s helpless, but because they view her as part of the team. They respect her.
The other part is jealousy roaring through my body. Jealousy that has no business setting up shop like it’s here to stay.
I can’t even pretend to joke about it. My mouth stays shut as I try to fade in the background. My blood’s still boiling from the way Ryan looked at her, and I hate it. Hate that my mood, my night, the fragile balance I’d built—all of it can be derailed by one person.
Chapter 16
CORA
Onedrinkturnedintothree. Three turned into four. Now I’m in that fuzzy space where my body feels warm and my brain feels a little reckless, and I can’t quite remember how many times Ryan’s ordered another round.
I should’ve gone home hours ago.
He keeps talking, louder now, leaning in too close while his words starting to blur together. Something about stocks. Something about his dad’s firm. Something about connections and hedge funds. The kind of conversation that makes my skin crawl, but I laugh anyway. Too high, too fake.
Because what else am I supposed to do? Admit I don’t care? Admit I’d rather be anywhere but here? Admit that he’s so predictable and boring, I’d rather watch paint dry?
Unless I have the chance to make someone jealous.
Every time I look across the room, Lane is there. Beer bottle hanging loose in his hand, jaw tight, eyes flicking toward me before he looks away.And every time I catch him, something inside me twists a little tighter.
I can’t stand it, so I drink more.
When I shift in the booth, Ryan’s hand lands on my knee, his thumb pressing into bare skin. I force myself not to flinch, not to shove him off, even though irritation hums through my chest. He grins at me like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re a lightweight, huh?” he teases when I sway, my elbow knocking lightly into my glass.
“I’m fine.” The words come out sharp, but they don’t even sound convincing. Not to him. Not to me.
“You sure? Because I don’t mind carrying you home,” he drawls, his gaze dragging down my legs in a way that makes something sour rise in my throat.
I grin like it doesn’t bother me at all. He buys it.
I tip back the rest of my drink just to have something to do with my hands.
This was supposed to be my night to relax. My chance to prove to myself that Lane Maxwell doesn’t matter. That Freddy’s texts don’t matter. That I can just be a normal college senior for once.
Instead, I’m sitting here, a little too drunk, with a guy I can barely tolerate, and all I can think about is the fact that Lane is watching.
And worse, how badly I want him to.
The bar feels too loud, too hot. My laugh comes out jagged, like I’m trying to sell it. Maybe to Ryan. Maybe to Lane. Maybe to myself.
But the truth is, I’m not. I’m wasting the one night I had for myself. And the worst part? I know exactly who I wish I were wasting it with.
Leo waves me over, and something in me flickers at the idea of flaunting my date in front of Lane. He hands me the perfect excuse. I slide out of the booth and make my way to their table, trying to look casual. Unbothered. Like this isn’t the whole point.
Ryan follows, his smirk slipping a little as he realizes where we’re headed.
“Hey guys. This is Ryan,” I say, voice a little too bright as I gesture toward him. “He’s, uh…”
