6. Caius #3
And I'm in so far over my head, I can't even see daylight anymore.
An hour later, I'm in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and trying to remember why ground rules seemed like a good idea.
The door opens behind me with a creak that cuts through the muffled bass from the party outside. I glance up at the mirror, water still dripping from my jaw, expecting to see Ryan coming to check on me or maybe Josh looking for another beer.
It's Kyle.
Of course it is. Because tonight wasn't complicated enough already.
Perfect. Just absolutely perfect.
"Caius." He says my name like he's testing it out, seeing how it tastes. "Got a second?"
I straighten slowly, deliberately, reaching for one of those scratchy brown paper towels from the dispenser.
The kind that feel more like sandpaper than anything meant to touch human skin.
I take my time drying my hands, then my face, watching him in the mirror's reflection.
He's still got that country club polish, pressed khakis, button-down that probably cost more than my grocery budget for a month, but there's something off about him tonight. Something harder around the edges.
"Not really," I say, wadding up the paper towel and tossing it toward the trash. It bounces off the rim but I don't move to pick it up.
He ignores that, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. Up close, I can see the cracks in his polished exterior. The tightness around his eyes. The way his hands flex like he wants to hit something.
I go very still, every muscle in my body locking into place like someone just hit the pause button on my entire existence. The water still dripping from my hairline suddenly feels ice cold against my skin.
"Excuse me?" The words come out quieter , almost dangerous in their softness.
"You and Hallie." He shifts his weight, and there's something in his expression, not quite smug, not quite hurt, but somewhere in that messy territory between the two. "This whole relationship thing you've got going on. It's fake. I know it is."
My heart kicks with adrenaline flooding my system even as I force my face into something neutral, something that won't give away the fact that he just landed a direct hit.
I lean back against the sink, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to look casual when everything inside me has gone into high alert.
"What makes you think that?" I ask, keeping my tone carefully even, almost bored.
Like this is the most ridiculous thing I've heard all week.
Like my entire world isn't potentially about to come crashing down around my ears because Hallie's ex-boyfriend is apparently more perceptive than I gave him credit for.
"Because I know Hallie." He steps closer, and I catch the faint smell of beer on his breath. "She doesn't do spontaneous. She doesn't date mechanics. She's careful and planned and she doesn't just fall into someone's arms a month after we break up."
"Maybe you didn't know her as well as you thought."
"Or maybe you're taking advantage of her while she's vulnerable." His voice drops, venom seeping in. "Look, I get it. She's pretty, she's sweet, she's probably easy to manipulate when she's hurting. But she's not the type to go for someone like you. Not long-term."
My hands curl into fists. "Someone like me."
"Yeah. No offense, but Hallie's got a degree. She's got ambitions. She's not going to end up with a guy who spends his days covered in grease, working dead-end jobs."
I step forward, and he flinches. Good.
"Let me make something very clear," I say quietly.
"Hallie is with me because she wants to be.
Not because I manipulated her, not because she's rebounding, but because she sees something in me that you were too shallow to ever notice.
And the fact that you think she's faking it?
That says a hell of a lot more about you than it does about us. "
"She deserves better."
"Yeah. She does. She deserves someone who doesn't dump her to 'find himself' in Europe and then show up at her sister's wedding expecting her to still be waiting around."
Kyle's face flushes. "I made a mistake."
"Not my problem."
"I still care about her."
"Then let her go." I move toward the door, done with this conversation. "She's moved on. You should too."
"This isn't over."
I pause, hand on the doorknob, and look back at him. "Yeah. It is. And if you touch her arm one more time, or corner her for coffee, or make her feel like she's not enough? We're going to have a much less polite conversation."
I leave before I do something stupid. Like punch him.
But my hands are shaking with the effort of restraint, and when I find Hallie in the crowd, laughing with her sister, all I want to do is pull her close and prove to everyone—Kyle, Ryan, the whole damn town—that this isn't fake.
That she's mine, and I'm hers, and maybe we've been heading toward this moment since we were kids.
She catches my eye across the room, and her smile softens, going private.
Just for me.
Ground rules be damned.