Chapter 45
The place is packed, shoulder-to-shoulder bodies, dim lights pulsing in time with the bass, laughter mixing with the sugary smell of spiked drinks. Someone’s already spilled something sticky on my shoe. People are dancing, shouting, flirting, practically climbing the walls.
And Vivian has been glued to me since I walked in the door.
“Come dance with me, Dom!”
“Dom, just one song!”
“Dom, you promised!”
I didn’t promise anything. But it’s her birthday, so I let her tug me around like a decorative accessory. For a little while.
But now? Now my patience is thin as scratched ice.
Because every time she drags me onto the dance floor, every time she laughs into my shoulder or flips her hair, my damn eyes wander. Searching the crowd.
Looking for someone.
Ellie.
I don’t know why I expected her to show. Maybe cause it’s her own house. But the longer the night goes on, the more irritated I get. At the noise, the lights, the heat, and myself.
I need air. Just a second for…a tiny payback.
I slip away the second Vivian gets distracted by a table of gifts and climb the stairs two at a time. The hallway is blissfully quiet, music muffled like I finally dipped my head underwater.
I end up in front of a familiar door.
Ellie’s room.
I smirk. If anyone sees me, I’m just exploring, hiding from the chaos.
But my hand is already on the doorknob and I step inside.
The room is exactly how I remember it: neat, organized, soft colors, the faint smell of strawberries from some lotion she likes. Books stacked on the dresser. Folded blankets. A tiny lamp shaped like a moon.
And-I stop.
A poster of me hangs above her desk. One from last year’s regional championship.
There’s another one by her closet.
I am frozen for a second before I let out a low whistle, half amused, half something else.
“So much for being over me,” I mutter.
If she still has these up, then she’s not as detached as she pretends. She’s lying. Obviously.
My gaze drifts across the room until it lands on a basket of snacks – her favorites. Strawberry chocolate-covered biscuit sticks.
1.3
+25 Bonus
Ellie always bought strawberry things. On our café runs before class, from vending machines after training, She said it made the “world sweeter.” I thought it was lame. At the time.
Without thinking, I pick up the box, tear it open, and bite into one.
Sweet. Light.Warm.
Now now, what can I do for some payback. She needs to learn respect. Maybe move everything to the left an inch?
Nah. Too much effort.
For a second too long, I just stand there. Breathing in the faint scent of her, letting the quiet wrap around me in thought. Being here feels like stepping into a memory I didn’t realize I missed.
My chest aches.
I hate that.
I shove it down. Hard.
The door slams open.
“Dom!” Vivian sings loudly, slurring. She stumbles inside, cheeks flushed, a drink still in her hand.
I nearly crush the bag in my hand.
She beams at me. “There you are! Everyone’s looking for you. And I—hic—you know, I never got a mark.” She jabs a finger at her neck. “You owe me.”
Before I can answer, she closes the distance, wobbling on her heels as she presses against my chest.
“Vivian-hey-slow down,” I say, trying to steady her.
But she giggles, sliding her hands up my shirt collar, leaning in far too close.
“I’m serious,” she whispers, breath warm with alcohol. “It’s my birthday, Dom. And I want a-hic-special present.”
She leans in.
Trying to kiss me.
“Viv-stop,” I say, stepping back.
She stumbles with me, fingertips hooked at my collarbone. We nearly fall onto Ellie’s bed before I catch her by the waist.
Her lips get dangerously close.
I turn my head away quickly, trying not to accidentally kiss her —
And freeze.
Because standing in the doorway, eyes wide and unreadable, is Ellie.
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