“It wasn’t me who got spooked by the sound of an owl and screamed so loud you woke Mama up, and I told her it was me who screamed so you wouldn’t get in trouble.”
“Still did though.” I smile. “What’s it gonna be? You still chicken?”
Serena huffs a sound midway between a laugh and an exasperated sigh, but a second later her hand moves down my body, and her lips move to my neck, grazing my skin in a caress that sends darts of heat shooting through me.
“I’m no chicken, Sullivan.” Her voice is low and daring, her breath hot on my skin.
I plaster on my cockiest smile and tighten my hold on her waist, making sure Ryan can see every inch of it. “That’s my girl,” I say, for her, for him, for the cameras.
TEN
SERENA
The museum corridor is quiet. Dimly lit and cool compared to the heat of the dance floor. My feet ache from dancing, but I’m smiling too. Chase has been a fun fake boyfriend. He’s been attentive and sweet. Making sure I’m OK one moment, making me laugh the next.
Ahead of me, an exhibit case catches my eye. I step closer, admiring the charred and pitted surface of a meteorite. It’s the size of a baseball and might not seem like much to look at, but the small rock has survived thousands of years in space before crashing down to earth to be admired and learned from. I’ve always loved museums. My parents used to bring us every summer. Elle would be constantly asking how long before she could look in the gift shop or get an ice cream, while I lingered over every small treasure.
We didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Two teachers’ salaries didn’t stretch far. Family vacations meant camping in national forests and visiting museums on free-entry days. But there was a lot of love and a lot of fun, and I never felt like I was missing out.
I’m leaning over the case, reading about the chemical composition of the meteorite when a voice comes from close behind me. Too close.
“I love that you’re trying to make me jealous tonight.”
I jolt, heart leaping to my throat as I spin around and find Ryan right behind me. The way he snuck up, not making a sound, has me off-balance and uneasy.
“Ryan,” I manage, stepping back and regaining my space.
Except Ryan follows, moving casually, like he has the right. A shiver creeps down my spine. The last few weeks replay in my thoughts. The day Ryan waited for me after work with a bouquet of flowers. The time the week before, when he knocked on my apartment door with a full picnic basket and plans to take a road trip to the Rocky Mountain National Park. Both times, I said no. And both times, he looked at me like my refusal was part of a game he would eventually win.
I even skipped my Friday morning Pilates class last week because his car was parked in the lot. My favorite teacher—my favorite way to start the day—ruined because there was no way I would be able to relax with him on the mat beside me.
“I’m not trying to make you jealous,” I say, keeping my voice light but clear. “Chase and I are together now. I’m sorry, Ryan, we’re not getting back together.”
“You and Chase, huh?” Ryan raises his brows. “Come on, Serena. You told me a thousand times you were just friends. And now suddenly you’re soulmates. You’ve obviously roped him into pretending tonight just to get to me. Almost had me convinced, too.” He leans closer. I step back again, but my spine hits the cold wall. Ryan rests his hand above my head, still smiling. “It’s pretty cute of you to go to so much effort.”
Fuck!
My heart starts to race. Cold prickles my skin. I know I should move, should shove him back, but I feel trapped. I don’twant to escalate this. I don’t want to find out what would happen if I try to walk away.
“Time to head back to the ballroom, Ryan,” I say.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t back away. “You want to play games?” he asks, voice low and edged with a menace. “Fine. Keep playing, Serena. Just know I always win.”
“I’m not playing any games,” I cry, allowing the frustration to leak into my voice. “We’re over. I want you to leave me alone.”
His smile is still stretched on his lips but there’s a coldness to it I don’t like. My pulse is now a drumbeat in my ears. I glance along the corridor, praying someone comes out of the ballroom. A second later there’s movement, and I almost cry out with relief. A familiar figure is closing the distance in long, purposeful strides. Seconds later, Chase is on us. There’s something dark in his eyes I’ve only seen when I’m on the sidelines watching him play football. A look that says he’s not backing down.
Ryan turns but doesn’t shift away. “Get lost, Sullivan. This doesn’t concern you.”
Chase’s voice is steel. “That’s my girlfriend you’re leaning over, so it does concern me. And even if Serena wasn’t my girlfriend, the way you’re getting in her space when she’s asked you to step back is serious creep behavior.”
In one movement, Chase is towering over Ryan while his hand slips into mine, tugging me toward him. His other hand meets Ryan’s chest, not a push, just a warning.
“It’s time for you to leave, Ryan.”
Ryan glares up at him, jaw ticking, but doesn’t argue. He knows better. Chase doesn’t flinch, doesn’t push, doesn’t threaten. But he doesn’t back down either.
“Come on, Serena,” Chase says, throwing his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. “Our car is here.”