Chapter 28
AVA
I was about to tell Emerson and Rumi that my period hadn’t come today like it’s supposed to when my vision turned red, the thought going to the back of my head for now.
That blonde girl’s hand was on Anderson’s arm, and my mind went completely blank, aside from getting over there and making it known that he wasn’t hers to touch.
“Husband?” Anderson whispers in my ear.
Did I say that?
We’re not going to the Little White Chapel until tomorrow night, but the word must have slipped out, and it’s too late to take it back.
Anderson’s body finally presses up against mine like I wanted him to do the entire Sugarcoated Lies setlist. It’s tentative, and just a whisper of a touch, but it’s enough to have my body buzzing, my skin feeling warm, my heart beating a little faster. “Is that what I am, love?”
I can hear the smile in his voice, but I don’t take my eyes off the girl in front of me.
Keeping my voice even, I give her one last warning to walk away with some semblance of her dignity, despite the urge to drag her away by her hair.
“If you’re not buying us all a round, then you can go.
” I wave my hand in dismissal, but she just stares at me, her hands coming to her hips as she sizes me up.
I thought she was drunk upon approach, but she’s all of a sudden steady on her feet; the sway she had gone. Her eyes shoot daggers at me, like I interrupted whatever she had planned when she came over here.
I don’t know if the tipsy thing was an act or being called on her shit sobered her up, but either way, if she thinks she can flirt with Anderson right in front of me, then she has another thing coming.
Because even if Anderson is only pretending to be mine, that doesn’t mean I share.
“I don’t see a ring,” she says, pursing her lips as she looks between me and Anderson.
“Do you want a medal?” I deadpan, my anger rising that she’s even talking back to me right now, but I don’t let it show.
“Do you need a leash?” she scoffs. “Talk about insecure. We were just talking.” She looks at Anderson as if he’ll back her up, but I don’t have to turn around to know he won’t.
A hand settles lightly at my hip.
“No leash needed,” he says calmly over my shoulder. “I know who I belong to.”
My heart stutters at his words, the easy way he says it has desire pooling low in my belly—as if it’s the truth. No question about it.
Real.
“And I’d tread carefully if I were you,” he adds, resting his chin on the top of my head as his grip on my hip tightens, pulling me flush against him. “Because I like the way she bites when someone gets too close to what’s hers.”
Anderson’s words leave her mouth ajar, her eyes wide as she looks at him and then back to me. I step closer, looking her right in the eyes, and Anderson’s hand stays planted on my hip, as if he’s waiting to pull me right back.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask, but I don’t give her time to figure out what she wants to say. “Go.”
And without another word, the girl’s confidence drains, and she turns to head back to wherever she came from, her head low and disappearing into the crowd.
“Okay, remind me to never piss you off,” Emerson says just as Anderson pulls me back against him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I shrug, feigning nonchalance, even though my mind is fixated on the way Anderson’s thumb dips into my jeans, drawing circles over my skin.
Luckily, there’s no need for me to say anything—I don’t even know what I would say about what I just did, what just happened—because the lights begin to fade and the crowd starts going wild as Cross My Heart walks out on stage.
The lead singer, Mateo Lane, heads straight for the microphone stand in the middle of the stage while the guitarist and bassist each take their spot on the sides of the stage.
In the low lights, the crowd going wild, the drummer, Eddie Ramirez, takes his spot behind his drum kit, pulling his drumsticks from his back pocket before sitting down.
Hitting his sticks together three times, he counts the first song in, the lights coming up just as the first note hits, and I can barely focus on anything besides the way Anderson keeps me close, not letting even an inch separate us.
I find myself leaning into him as if my body just needed a taste of him to remember how well he knows it.
“Have I ever told you how hot you are when you’re jealous?” Anderson says into my ear as Mateo’s vocals begin. He talks over the music, but low enough for only me to hear.
I turn around, his palm finding the small of my back as he keeps me close.
I don’t drink, never have, and never will, but this is what it must feel like to be drunk—his touch intoxicating in a way I didn’t know was possible.
Happier. Lighter. Like nothing matters except what more I have to do to keep feeling like this.
Maybe that’s what has me saying, “Have I ever told you I don’t share?”
Anderson’s eyes widen as his lips turn up in a lazy smile. “Noted.”
And for the entire rest of the night, Anderson is never not touching me.
I’m never not touching him.
Whether it’s his arm hung over my shoulder as we make our way out of the venue after the concert, or the way he leads me into the car with a hand on the small of my back, or his palm splayed on my thigh while we drive to the after party.
There’s a little voice in the back of my head, reminding me how bad of an idea it is to blur these boundaries.
Especially if I let myself remember that I haven’t gotten my period yet.
And if I don’t get it by tomorrow, that means I’m late.
And I’m never late.
And the last person I slept with is the man I’m marrying tomorrow.