Chapter 8
Reese
Nothing says "my life is a fucking disaster" like seeing your boyfriend and your best friend facing off in a parking lot like they're about to throw down in a street fight. I freeze mid-step coming out of the dance studio, my gym bag sliding off my shoulder to thud against my hip.
"What the fuck?" I mutter, my voice barely audible over the sound of my heart trying to jackhammer its way out of my chest.
Justin stands near his Audi, dressed in pressed khakis and a button-down that screams "I just came from an important meeting." His face lights up when he sees me, but there's concern etched in the lines around his eyes.
And then there's Ramsey, leaning against his bike like he owns the goddamn parking lot.
The hood of his sweatshirt is pulled up just enough to cast shadows over his face, but I can see the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
That fucking smirk that hasn't left my mind since last Saturday night when I felt him hard as concrete under my ass.
I force my feet to move, walking toward them with what I hope looks like confidence and not the blind panic I'm actually feeling.
"Hey," I call out, my voice embarrassingly shaky. "What's going on?"
Justin moves first, crossing the distance between us in long strides. "Hey, babe." He leans in to kiss me, and I turn my head slightly so his lips land on my cheek instead of my mouth. If he notices, he doesn't let on. "I was worried about you. You've barely answered my texts all weekend."
Guilt twists in my stomach. I've been avoiding him since the couch incident with Ramsey, making up excuses about feeling sick and needing to rest.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I was just…not feeling great."
"But you felt good enough to teach tonight?" Justin's tone is light, but there's an edge to it that makes my skin prickle.
"Dance is different," I explain, shifting my weight. "It actually helps when I'm not feeling well. Gets the blood flowing, you know?"
Behind Justin, Ramsey makes a sound that might be a laugh or a scoff. I shoot him a glare over Justin's shoulder, but he just raises an eyebrow, his infuriating smirk still firmly in place.
"I thought I'd surprise you," Justin continues. "Maybe take you to dinner? You must be hungry after class."
Before I can answer, Ramsey pushes off the bike and saunters over, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. "Actually, star, I already made dinner. It's waiting at home." His eyes flick to Justin, a challenge in their blue depths. "You know, at our place."
Justin turns, giving Ramsey a once-over. "I think I can take it from here, man. I'd like to spend some time with my girlfriend."
The word 'girlfriend' makes Ramsey's jaw tighten, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. The smile never leaves his face, but his eyes go cold in a way that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s like a switch has been flipped. I want to groan because there’s no way this ends well for any of us.
"Is that right?" Ramsey says, tilting his head slightly. "Reese, you have a choice to make." Ramsey's voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Dinner with the boyfriend you've been dodging all week, or home with me."
Fuck me sideways. I hate being put on the spot like this. My eyes dart between them—Justin's expectant face and Ramsey's challenging smirk.
"I, uh..." I stutter, shifting my dance bag higher on my shoulder. "Rams, you didn't tell me you were making dinner tonight."
"Wanted it to be a surprise." His eyes never leave mine. "Made your favorite. Chicken alfredo with those little broccoli bits you like."
"I don't..." I start before Justin cuts me off.
“Seriously? Again with this shit?"
"What shit?" I ask, genuinely confused.
"This." Justin gestures between Ramsey and me. "Every fucking time I try to make plans with you, he shows up with some emergency or favor or whatever the fuck, and you drop everything for him."
"That's not true," I protest, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.
“Yes, it is.” I cut a look to Ramsey, glowering at him but he just mouths you’re adorable like an angry kitten and I think if I had the strength I’d choke him out right now for that comment.
"And I'm supposedly your boyfriend," Justin snaps. "Though honestly, I'm starting to wonder why you're even with me when you're clearly riding Blackwood's dick so much."
The words hit me like a slap across the face and I almost rear back. My mouth falls open, but before I can form a response, Ramsey moves. He's in Justin's face so fast I barely register him crossing the space between them.
"Say that again," Ramsey growls, his voice so low I can barely hear it.
Justin's face goes from angry red to ghost white in seconds. Ramsey leans closer, whispering something I can't catch. Whatever it is, makes Justin take a stumbling step backward, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
"I—I should go," Justin stammers, fumbling for his car keys. "We'll talk later, Reese."
He practically sprints to his car, yanking the door open and throwing himself inside. The engine roars to life, tires squealing as he peels out of the parking lot like the devil himself is on his tail.
I'm left standing there in the parking lot, my mouth hanging open as Justin's taillights disappear. For a second, I can't even process what just happened. Did my boyfriend seriously just accuse me of fucking my best friend and then run away like Ramsey was going to murder him?
I whirl around to face Ramsey, who's still wearing that insufferable smirk like he just won some game I didn't know we were playing.
"What the actual fuck was that?" I snap, jabbing a finger into his chest. "What did you say to him?"
Ramsey shrugs, completely unfazed by my anger. "Nothing that wasn't true."
"Which was what, exactly?" I demand, poking him again, harder this time. His chest is like a brick wall under my finger, and it only pisses me off more.
"That if he ever speaks to you like that again, I'll peel his face off so thoroughly his own mother won't recognize him when she has to identify the body." He says this so casually, like he's commenting on the weather and not threatening death.
"Jesus Christ, Ramsey!" I throw my hands up. "You can't just threaten my boyfriend like that!"
"Is he really your boyfriend?" he observes, nodding toward where Justin's car had been.
"That's not—" I sputter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "You don't get to decide that! You don't get to scare off every guy I date just because you think you know what's best for me!"
His smirk never falters, and I swear to God I want to slap it right off his stupidly handsome face. Instead, I poke him again, right in the center of his chest.
"You did this on purpose," I accuse, my voice rising. "You knew exactly what you were doing, showing up here, talking about 'our place' and dinner. You wanted to piss him off!"
"So is that a no for the dinner waiting for you or...?" Ramsey asks, completely ignoring my accusation, his head tilted to the side in that infuriating way that makes me want to scream.
"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I throw my gym bag onto the ground and start digging through it, yanking out a SCU hoodie. "My boyfriend just left me in a parking lot because of you, and all you care about is whether I'm coming home for your stupid dinner?"
"It's not stupid, it's chicken alfredo," he corrects, like that's the important part of what I just said. "With the little broccoli bits you like."
I shove my arms into the hoodie with more force than necessary, muttering curses under my breath. "You are such an asshole sometimes, you know that?"
"So I've been told," he agrees, not sounding the least bit bothered by the accusation.
"Fine. Whatever. Feed me. But I'm still mad at you. Are you getting on the bike or what?" I snap, tapping my foot impatiently as I secure the helmet under my chin.
"Well, I guess dinner is on then," he says, finally climbing onto the bike.
I slide on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist tighter than necessary. Part of me hopes it makes him uncomfortable, but another part—a part of me kind of hopes he gets a little turned on.
And if that’s not fucked up, I don’t know what is.