Chapter 21 #3
Camille's eyes flash with triumph, aimed directly at Ivy, who's laughing at something Luce just said. “Oh, Asher's pissed because he found out I cheated on him. Now he's trying to get even with me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Camille!” My head snaps to her. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”
It's too late.
Ivy's eyes are on me, all laughter gone.
Luce leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as if Camille just answered everything, and Jord looks like he might just swing on a girl.
“She's lying,” I say blandly, to no one else but Ivy because she's the only one that matters. But then what can I follow up with? She's lying but I'm also not gonna leave her?
Yeah. Because that's going to go down fucking great.
Ivy's gaze slides off me like I'm nothing. She turns back to Luce, her laugh a little too loud to not be obvious that she hasn't been watching. And is pissed. Again.
I down the rest of my whiskey, letting the burn anchor me to this seat when every instinct screams to cross the space between us.
Atlas shoots me a look that says don't, but he's too busy keeping Punk from falling off her chair to do anything about it.
“I need another drink,” Camille announces, standing. She waits, expecting me to follow like a trained fucking dog.
I don't move.
Her jaw tightens. “Asher—”
I stare up at her, bored.
She storms off, heels clicking against the floor, and I couldn't give less of a fuck where she ends up.
Luce leans over to whisper something in Ivy's ear, and Ivy's response is to toss back her—what is that, her fourth? Fifth?—drink, and stand. They head toward the dance floor, weaving through bodies until the crowd swallows them whole.
My fingers drum against the table. Once. Twice.
“You good?” Jord's voice cuts through my focus.
I don't answer. My eyes track Ivy through the mass of people, her black dress catching the strobe lights, turning her into something otherworldly. Untouchable.
Except I've touched her. Tasted her. Heard her say my name like it was the last one she'd ever whisper.
A guy steps into her space. Some asshole in a button-up with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He says something that makes Ivy smile. Not the real smile, the one she gives strangers.
His hand lands on her wrist.
My vision tunnels.
“Yo.” Jord's voice sharpens. “I said, are you good?”
I swallow the rest of my drink. “Fine.”
“Bullshit.” He follows my line of sight, then exhales through his nose. “Look, man, I get it. But you don't need to worry about her.”
I tear my gaze away long enough to glare at him. “That supposed to comfort me?”
“Anyone who touches her wrong?” Jord shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “Usually loses a finger. Or ten.”
It should reassure me. It doesn't. Because right now, that guy's hands are still on Ivy, and she's letting him. Her hips sway against his, her head tipping back, and I watch as his mouth dips toward her ear.
I'm up before I register moving.
“Asher—” Atlas starts, but I'm already past him.
Camille materializes at my side like a fucking ghost. “Where are you—”
“Stay with Atlas.”
Her head jerks back. “Excuse me?”
I stop, turning on her. “I said stay. The fuck. With Atlas.”
Her mouth opens, closes. For once, she's silent. She and I have a bunch of shit neither of us want spilling out in public, so I know she'll listen.
Everyone parts as I cut through, bodies shifting out of my way like they sense what's coming. The guy's hand moves lower, fingers splaying across Ivy's hip. I reach them in less than five seconds, shoving him back. Hard.
He stumbles, crashing into a couple behind him. Someone shouts. Phones rise like a goddamn swarm, screens glowing as they capture every second.
“What the fuck—” the guy starts, recovering enough to square up.
I step between him and Ivy, her chest brushing my back.
“Who the hell do you think—”
His eyes widen, flicking between me and Ivy. “Shit, man, sorry! I didn't know—”Before I can call bullshit, he's gone, disappearing into the crowd.
I turn to Ivy.
Her cheeks are flushed, her long brown hair flowing down her back. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” I ask, weighing up the pros and cons of making this night even worse by throwing her ass over my shoulder and hauling her out of here. You know. Since she's definitely gonna kill me anyway.
Her arms cross. “It looks like you're acting like a jealous psycho.”
“Good.” I grin down at her, stepping closer. “Then it's accurate.”
Luce appears, grabbing Ivy's arm. “Ivy, maybe we should—”
“No.” Ivy yanks her arm free, swaying slightly. “No, I want to hear this. What gives you the right, Asher?”
“You really want to do this here?” I tease, unable to wipe the smug grin from my face. “I mean, I'm keen if you are, baby, but I'm gonna go ahead and say you have a lot more to lose than I do.”
“You!” she jabs a finger into my chest. “Think you're so funny! Making sure everyone in this club knows you have a problem with me dancing? Ha… ha. You should have been a comedian.”
I step further into her space. “I have a problem with you letting some random asshole put his hands on you.”
“Oh, that's rich coming from—”
I grab her wrist, pulling her toward the exit. She fights it for half a second before her body follows, her heels clicking rapidly as she tries to keep up.
“Asher, stop—”
I don't. We pass the bar and I snag a bottle of whiskey from the counter, ignoring the bartender's protest. Someone will charge it to my tab. Someone always does.
We don't stop until we're far enough away that the bass from the club is distant. Passing familiar shops on our way, neither of us say a word as we walk up the main road and in the direction of the house.
Ten minutes later, she sniffs. “Ash.”
I stop but don't turn, staring at the dark street in front of us. Not even the colorful lights can distract you from the underbelly of this town.
Trust. Many have tried.
“—we can't keep doing this,” she continues, pushing every god damn button that I have.
She appears in front of me, and when her hands land on my cheeks, I hiss, hooking my arm around her waist so she can't run.
“I know,” I say, swallowing, but skimming my lips over hers. “But you're gonna give me until your birthday, and until then, we're not gonna talk about the logistics of this fucked up situation.”
She blinks, her green eyes glaring right through me. “And then?”
I swallow, but it's too painful. Too much. Too raw. “And then we walk away.”