“That might be the case,” he says, sipping whatever’s in his cup. “But detonating your relationship in front of half the team and the friend group? Not exactly what I’d call a power move.”
I glance back toward the booth.
Honey’s talking animatedly with Dax and Sebi, trying to keep the peace while her friend shoots daggers in my direction. She’s no longer the embarrassed or wounded girl I just left behind, but that doesn’t mean I should’ve acted that way.
“I know,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. “I fucked up.”
“Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong about her,” Reese says, leaning in closer. “Something’s definitely off. No question, butyou need to be smarter about this. Get Honey alone. Explain the situation.Calmly.”
Mason joins us at the bar, sliding his empty glass toward the bartender. “He's right. If you make this a public showdown, you're just going to push Honey away.”
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll back off for now.”
I set the bottle down, the fake beer suddenly tasting too sweet, too warm, too much like bullshit. My fingers twitch to crush it anyway, but I slide off the stool instead, weaving through the bodies toward the back exit because I need some air to clear my head.
The hallway’s dark and narrow. It’s quiet, save for the faint, muffled bassline of the party still raging beyond the wall. I brace one hand against the cool concrete, drop my head, and breathe. In. Out. Again.
I should feel better. I don’t.
When I lift my head, Jenni’s there.
Of course she is.
Jenni stands at the end of the hallway with her arms crossed and her makeup too perfectly intact for someone who was ready to bawl over the table a few minutes ago.
“What do you want?” I ask flatly.
“To clear the air,” she says lightly, stepping closer. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened at your house. I shouldn’t have stopped by. I also shouldn’t have given you my number without explaining why…or flirting with you.”
So, she admits it? Just not in front of anyone.
She shakes her head, laughing nervously. “It was stupid, and disrespectful. I was just embarrassed, and when I’m nervous, I say things. Even if I don’t mean them. I just, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
I cross my arms and study her, letting the silence stretch long enough to make her shift her weight. Her lip trembles. Her eyesshine. I’ve seen this play before. Hell, I’ve dated girls who could pull it off better.
She keeps talking. “Look, I really like Honey. I do. She’s been through a lot and… she needs people who care. I want to be one of those people. I’d never hurt her.”
“If that’s true,” I say, my eyes narrowing, “then why didn’t you mention you knew her to me? Why did you give me your number with no context?”
She tilts her head, her mouth parting like she’s shocked I remember. “I did mention her. I said we’d be seeing more of each other.”
I try to recall the conversation, but the moment was so insignificant it barely stuck—except for that vague threat.
“I’m so thankful and appreciative that I’m one of her friends, you know? I wouldn’t want that to end over a misunderstanding.”
There it is. The real voice underneath the mask. Reese would say I’m reading too much into this, and to give her a chance.
Apparently, Reese is a better guy than me.
Before I can respond, she closes the distance and wraps her arms around me.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe. My arms stay limp at my sides, and I resist the urge to shove her off, knowing that if I put my hands on her, she could misconstrue it.
When I’ve waited an appropriate amount of time, I pull back, but she presses her body close, and her mouth hovers close to my ear when she says, “Thanks for being so cool about it.”
That’s enough.
She pulls back, and when her eyes meet mine, her lashes flutter.