Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Right.” He chuckles, but it’s not a pleasant sound. It’s more of a grating of metal on metal in an engine that’s unaligned. “Friends. Sure.”
Before I can respond, the air shifts. A loud voice cuts through the noise, and I glance toward the center of the room, my stomach lifting, then dropping.
It’s Shawn, and he has his arm around Malik’s neck. They’re tipping their heads back to sing along to the music and laughing raucously, making it obvious that they’re both drunk.
Malik’s gaze sweeps across me and then returns as he notices Forester standing close. “Hey, Riley. Get over here.” I wave my hand back and forth to indicate I’m all right because I’m nowhere near drunk enough to get in the middle of the mess on the dancefloor, and in that state, Shawn is likely to forget that we’re not kissing and hugging in public, but Malik isn’t having any of it. “Riley, get your ass over here,” he yells. And then to Shawn, he says, “Have you seen Riley’s ass, dude? It’s fucking poetry.” The other men erupt into whoops and raucous laughter, and I freeze, my cheeks flaming as I watch Shawn shove Malik’s shoulder, his movements jerky and unsteady. It’s a kind of a jokey, friendly warning, but one that has the capacity to easily flip into something more.
“Don’t fucking talk about her ass, man,” he slurs.
“Hey, dude.” Malik raises his hand, palms out, his eyes wide. “Riles is cool. She knows I don’t mean anything by it.”
“Don’t talk about her ass, man,” he repeats, his attention laser-focused on a confused Malik. All his usual humor has left him, and he’s braced like Jacob would be for a fight.
“You got something going on with her I don’t know about?” Malik asks. “Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to tread on anyone’s toes.”
“I thought you were with Hayes.” Forester doesn’t look at me but watches Shawn with a fox’s smile.
“I’m none of your fucking business.” I step aside to put some distance between us, but Forester sidesteps so he’s close enough to talk to me again.
“You the meat in some kind of Drayton sandwich?” he asks, his grin even slyer with the edge of cunning that contracts his cheeks, almost grimace-like.
Before I can answer, Jacob and Hayes are there, holding Shawn’s shoulders with gentle warning. I don’t understand what’s going on. Sweet, funny, chilled-out Shawn has turned into a possessive alpha with a few beers in his system, a few beers, and the lingering guilt of the explicit photos. If he’s worried about making it up to me, defending my honor like a caveman isn’t the way.
“She’s not just a fucking ass, Malik,” Shawn slurs, pointing a wobbly finger at him. “She’s. Mine.” Then, realizing his brothers are there, he quickly corrects himself. “Ours.”
Malik’s nervous laughter dies instantly, and Forester’s begins, deep, rumbling, and pleased. So pleased it makes me sick to my stomach because the reality is, Shawn’s drunken confession wouldn’t have mattered if it was just our friends here, but Forester’s been looking for a way to get back at Hayes and me since the first frat party where he was forced to let me go.
And now he has his chance.
Malik, coming back to himself, laughs again, waiting for Shawn to confirm he’s joking, and this has all been a huge prank, but he doesn’t, and Hayes’ eyes find mine, filled with regret and apology. He has nothing to apologize for, but it doesn’t matter. What is now out in the open is going to affect us all. I knew I should have stayed at home tonight.
Malik looks stunned for half a second before barking out a laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
But before Shawn can answer, Forester’s grin widens like a shark sensing blood in the water. “Oh, this is gold.”
“Shut your mouth, Forester,” Shawn snaps, but it’s too late.
Forester’s already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving over the screen. “People are gonna eat this shit up.”
My breath catches, panic clawing its way up my throat.
Shawn struggles to release himself from his brothers’ grip, but they hold on tightly as he realizes in increments what he’s done, and his fierceness shrinks before my eyes.
The damage is done. People are whispering, their gazes flicking between Shawn and me, trying to piece together the scandal in real time.
I don’t wait for more. I can’t. I push my way through the crowd, ignoring the looks and the murmurs, fighting the threat of tears.
***
By the time I make it home, my tears have dried, and a cool sense of inevitability has replaced my initial swell of mortification. I tell myself our secret would have had to come out one day, and gossip has a way of rising like the tide and retreating just as fast. We might be a source of fascination for a while, but we’ll become boring in time. That’s just the way of the world.