Chapter 20 #2
South campus blurs by until Elowyn and Blaire emerge from the alley by the Salty Iguana, all legs and confidence.
“Ladies.” I shake off Hailey’s hand and slide my arms around their waists like they belong there. Hailey’s jaw unhinges, so I press a kiss to both foreheads to watch it drop farther.
“Hey, Aiden.” Elowyn’s palm drifts over my chest, deliberate enough to make Hailey twitch.
Blaire’s hips brush mine as we walk. “Have you visited Sutton yet?”
If I tell her Sutton hasn’t crossed my mind, I’ll lose half my leverage for tonight. “Not yet.” It’s enough to keep the illusion that I give a damn. The promise that I care is enough for most women to live off of for at least a good six months.
“He picked me up for a date,” Hailey interjects, trying to wedge herself back into my orbit.
“Sweetheart, I’m dating a lot of ladies. You can be one, if you act right.” I hook a thumb under her pointed chin and lower my voice. “Don’t do the jealous girlfriend thing. Especially if you’re never going to be a girlfriend.”
Blaire laughs as she pulls the bar door open, and the night swallows us whole—dark, neon-lit, thrumming with drunken chaos.
Somewhere in here, Ashlyn will see this.
And when she does, I’ll make sure it burns.
The bar’s already thick with bodies, music thudding low enough in the chest to feel before you hear it. Henry spots me first, raising his beer like he’s been waiting all night. Tade’s beside him, Landon sitting across from them with a whiskey, already half gone.
“About time.” Henry grins.
“Had to bring an entourage.” I steer Hailey toward the high-top table like luggage I haven’t decided where to drop yet, then slap hands with Henry and Tade before sliding in next to Landon.
“What’re you drinking?” Landon asks.
“Whiskey. Neat.” I don’t look at Hailey when I add, “Be a doll, sweetheart. Two doubles.” Waving my finger in a circle, I add, “And whatever my brothers want.”
She nods like she’s been handed a sacred mission, weaving off through the thick crowd.
“Who’s the plus-one?” Henry asks, chin tilting toward her retreating figure.
“The president’s charity project,” I say, which earns a smirk from Tade.
The drinks arrive, and the conversation turns into easy trash talk—Henry about his latest car mod, Tade about a pledge who puked in the trophy case, Landon about a girl who keeps “forgetting” she’s married. I laugh, toss back my whiskey, order another.
Hailey’s still planted at my elbow, fake laughing when the guys do, nodding along like she’s part of the inner circle. She’s not.
“Sweetheart,” I cut in mid-story, “go see if they’ve got those pretzels with the beer cheese.”
“Oh, sure!” Off she goes again, quick to please.
“She doesn’t get it, does she?” Lan mutters.
“Not her job to get it,” I reply as I lean back in my chair. “Her job’s to follow instructions.”
When she returns, flushed from the crowd, she sets down the pretzels like they’re a peace offering. I slide the plate to the middle of the table without a glance.
“Thanks, babe. Now grab me another whiskey, would you? Oh, and some cheese fries for my brother, Henry.” With a tilt of my head, I smirk. “Those are his favorites.”
He taps his glass to mine and smiles broadly.
It goes like that for a while. Every time she thinks she’s settled in, I send her on some errand. Napkins. Water. Find out if the DJ takes requests. Tell Ryan and his girlfriend we saved them some seats when they arrive.
By the fourth trip, Landon’s grinning over his glass. “You’re gonna run her ragged.”
“That’s the point,” I say, low enough so only they hear. “If she’s moving, she’s not talking. And she’s not near me.”
She comes back smiling anyway, sliding the drink toward me with a little too much hope in her eyes. I take it and raise it toward the guys.
“To brotherhood.”
The glasses clink. Hailey’s not invited to the toast.
“Hey!” Ryan pulls up a stool, ignoring Hailey entirely as he hauls his appointed, Pippi, onto his lap. I shove a whiskey at him, already feeling the burn of the shots stacking in my veins.
“Sup.”
Ryan clocks the girl next to me, hovering like she’s waiting for permission to breathe. He catches my look—the silent green light.
“Doll?” he says, all charm. “Grab my girlfriend a vodka soda, yeah? Thanks, darling.”
He never breaks eye contact with me while he says it.
My guy.
I’d die for any man at this table. No hesitation.
Despite how much my brothers and Landon annoy me.
Pooling in my gut, the whiskey’s sinking in and softening the edges of the room.
The guys are loud, the music’s louder, the bar’s a crush of heat and neon.
I’ve been laughing at Lan’s story about some Beta getting caught jerking off on one of the cafeteria ladies, but when I glance at my phone to check the time, my grin flickers.
She should’ve been here by now…
The thought’s there and gone—or I try to make it gone—swallowed by another round, another joke. But my eyes keep skimming the crowd, scanning faces without meaning to, before flicking to the screen held tight in my palm.
The floor pulses under the weight of a hundred bodies moving in sync with the bass. Someone bumps my shoulder, the air shifts, the door opens, letting in the fall air, and—
There she is.
Sliding through the entry like she owns the place, gold hair catching every strobe of light. My pulse spikes in a way that the whiskey can’t touch.
Ashlyn.
Every cell in me sits up, grinning like a fool in my own head before I can stop it.
And then I see him.
Talon.
Hands on her hips. Leaning in and leading her inside like he has a right.
The warmth drains out of me in an instant, replaced by a surge of white-hot heat that floods my vision until the whole bar’s just shapes and shadows.
I see red.