Chapter 13
Milow
“Text me when you want me to pick you up, okay, Milow?”
I looked at Wesley through the open car window and nodded, smiling as I gave him a quick thumbs-up.
Then he shifted his attention to Ashby, his expression turning serious. “You look out for her.”
“I will. I won’t leave her side.” Ashby said it with certainty. He had already promised me that earlier, and he didn’t need to repeat it. I knew he meant it.
“Good.” Wesley nodded once. “Then… have fun, kids.”
[Thank you.] I waved as he drove off, watching the car disappear down the street. When I turned to Ashby, I waited for him to lead the way toward the wide-open front door of Scottie’s house, where music and voices drifted out into the warm night air.
He stepped closer to me, taking my hand in his as I looked up.
“Once we go in there…” he started, his brows pulling together like whatever he was about to say weighed on him. “I really need you to just… enjoy it.”
I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue.
“I mean,” he went on, “I want you to have fun. I know this isn’t your ideal Friday night, but I think you might like it. And if you don’t…” He shrugged lightly. “We go home.”
This time, I frowned and shook my head, gently pulling my hand free so I could sign. [If I want to go home, you don’t have to come with me.]
“I know, I know.” He exhaled and smiled at me. “But honestly… I only said yes to this party because I thought you’d want to go. For Scottie.”
That changed things for me. A smile tugged at my lips. [You didn’t have to.]
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging again. “Still. If you want to leave, we leave. Okay?”
I studied his face for a moment, then nodded slowly. [Okay.]
“Good. Let’s go inside.”
The noise hit me full force the moment we stepped inside.
Music thumped through the house, vibrating the floor and going straight into my body.
Voices overlapped, and there was laughter and shouting everywhere.
The air smelled like cheap perfume and sweat.
Almost like the girls’ changing room at school.
It wasn’t my favorite smell, and I tried to ignore it.
People crowded the entryway, standing in loose clusters with cups in their hands and bodies swaying even when they weren’t dancing.
I stopped when a guy stumbled into my way, and Ashby immediately put himself between us. He shot the guy a glare, and without needing another warning, the guy lifted his hands in defense and left.
Ashby looked at me. “You okay?”
I nodded.
We continued walking, and he slowed his pace, angling his body slightly toward me to create space.
I reached out on instinct and grabbed a fistful of his shirt at his back, my fingers curling into the fabric.
He glanced down at me to make sure I was okay, and I gave him a tight smile to ease his worry.
“Let’s go to the kitchen,” he said, leaning closer so I could hear him. He gestured ahead, toward the packed hallway.
I had never seen Scottie’s house this full, but it was big enough to hold all these people. Ashby gently cleared the path with his shoulders, murmuring quick apologies when someone bumped into him. I stayed close, almost pressed into his back, and my hand was still gripping his shirt.
People glanced at us as we passed. Some smiled, some others looked curious, their eyes lingering on me before flicking back to Ashby.
At first, I thought maybe they were staring because I was a year younger.
Most of these kids were seniors. Some I didn’t recognize at all, but they looked even older.
I hadn’t seen anyone from my year yet, but I doubted Scottie had invited them.
I was the only junior she hung out with.
I kept my gaze down, focusing on the familiar feel of his clothes under my fingers and the way he moved through a crowd with confidence.
The living room opened up to our left, and I saw someone dancing on a coffee table.
Someone else spilled a drink and laughed about it, and a group of girls cheered on a guy who drank a clear liquor straight from the bottle.
I felt like I was walking through a movie scene.
Ashby glanced back again to check on me once more. I smiled tightly, even though my heart was beating so fast that it hurt. I was still so nervous, but I tried my best not to show it.
The hallway narrowed, and the vibe shifted. It was still loud, but more with voices than music. The closer we got to the kitchen, the more I smelled food.
Then we reached the doorway. The kitchen was crowded, too, but it was less chaotic.
People leaned against counters, sat on the edges, and talked in tighter groups.
Near the center of it all, Scottie stood facing Stan, both of them looking tense.
Their voices were raised enough that even over every other sound, I could tell they were arguing.
Well… their expressions gave it away first.
Ashby slowed to a stop the moment we stepped into the kitchen, and I felt the tension in his body immediately.
His shoulders lifted, then dropped with a heavy sigh.
I stayed behind him, close enough that my shoulder brushed his back as I peeked past him to whatever was unfolding in the center of the room.
“And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?” Stan said loudly, his voice sharp as he threw his arms up into the air. “I wasn’t the one who sent out all those messages about the party.”
Scottie looked furious. Her jaw was tight, and her brown eyes flashed with anger as she faced him head-on. “I sent them to my contacts, Stan. People I personally know. That message wasn’t supposed to be forwarded to anyone else.”
“I just sent it to two of my friends I train with.”
“And that’s where you messed up.”
“Right. So it’s my fault all these people you didn’t invite showed up.”
Scottie looked like she was ready to walk away, but her hands curled into fists at her sides, and instead of leaving, she whipped back around and stared him down. “Yes, Stanley. It is your fault. Because your two friends then invited their whole fucking college group.”
“Oh, man…” Ashby muttered under his breath.
I looked up at him, my lips pressed tightly together as my fingers tugged at the fabric of his shirt. He turned his head and sighed once more, then leaned in enough so I could hear him.
“Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle it.”
Ashby guided me forward, leading me toward our friends. The second Stan noticed us, his expression shifted. The tension melted right off his face, and was replaced with a wide, familiar grin.
“Ace, my girl!”
He barreled past Scottie and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground the way he always did. Stan had started calling me Ace during my first year of high school because I kept getting A’s. The nickname never bothered me, and it had grown on me, actually.
Stan had gotten huge over the years. He wasn’t much taller than Ashby, but he was just as broad and packed with muscle. He was super strong, which he needed to be as an MMA fighter.
I smiled, unable to stop myself. No matter how chaotic he was, no matter how rough things between us had been when we were younger, we’d grown close.
All four of us had. Scottie and Stan just…
clashed sometimes. One day, they were inseparable, holding hands in front of the whole school.
And the next, they were at each other’s throats like this.
But they were friends. Or something more.
“Put her down,” Ashby said, his voice tight with worry again.
Stan laughed, setting me back on my feet. I adjusted my skirt, smoothing it down, then I waved at Stan. Soon after, my attention went straight to Scottie.
She leaned against the counter with arms crossed over her chest, and her expression was still hard. Her gaze was fixed somewhere past us. I pressed my lips together and stepped closer to her, gently placing my hand on her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze.
She didn’t look at me right away.
I waited, giving her a moment to let her breathe. When her eyes finally lifted to meet mine, the edge in her expression softened, and she smiled gently.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said. Then her smile widened just a little. “You came.”
I nodded. [You asked me to.]
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”
“What’s going on?” Ashby asked, stepping closer. His hand closed around Stan’s arm to keep him there.
Scottie sighed and shook her head, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Nothing.”
“Yeah,” Stan muttered. His voice was low and edged with guilt. “Now it’s nothing.”
Ashby and I both looked between them. The tension was thick and so familiar. I shifted my weight and then glanced up at Ashby, waiting for him to do what he always did—step in, calm things down, and make them like each other again.
He looked at Stan again and asked, “Who did you invite?”
Stan scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Two guys from the club. That’s it. I didn’t think they’d forward the message to anyone else.”
Scottie let out a humorless laugh. “You never think.”
Stan flinched at that. For once, he didn’t fire back. His expression shifted. The defensiveness drained away and was replaced by pain. He hated fighting with her just as much as anyone would hate fighting with someone they were close to.
“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice carried a weight that sat heavy in the room. He stepped closer and reached for her hand. She could’ve pulled away if she wanted to, but she didn’t. “I fucked up. I wasn’t trying to ruin your night.”
Scottie hesitated, then her fingers curled around his.
“You always do this,” she said, but there was no real anger left in her voice. But she sounded exhausted instead.
“I know,” Stan replied softly. “And I hate that I do.”