“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You might want to try to be a little more convincing if you want people to believe that. Anyone with fuckin’ eyeballs can see right through you.”
I drain the last of my beer and signal for another. “Drop it.”
“She doesn’t really seem like Lane’s type, if I’m being honest,” he mutters.
“Land. I’m serious.”
To his credit, he backs off. I down the second beer just as Emmett and Lydia dance their way over to us.
“Alright, who wants to buy me a drink? Brantley is being a real party pooper tonight,” Lydia says, pouting.
Landon looks at me, eyebrows slightly raised. I shake my head subtly, silently telling him to let it go.
“I got you, Lyd,” Emmett says, flagging Brantley down. “Hey, B. Can we get another round?”
Brantly rolls his eyes but lines up a row of shots for everyone. Landon turns his down since he is one of theactualdesignated drivers tonight. Emmett takes it instead, now that Lane so kindly relieved him of his duties.
It takes a lot for me to hate someone, but I really don’t fucking like him.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
He and Sadie walk up, laughing and breathless from dancing.
Landon and Emmett give him that half-handshake, half-hug thing, palms slapping together before they pull each other in and clap each other on the back. It pisses me off more than it should. This all feels like a nightmare I can’t wake up from.
Sadie leans in, grinning wildly, and Lydia slides her a shot. She tosses it back, laughing, carefree, and glowing under the lights.
I’m trying not to be obvious, but all my attention is focused on her. I can’t help it. It should be Lane’s responsibility to keep his girlfriend safe, but I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone. Elk River is a small town, and I haven’t forgotten how shitty some of these guys were growing up.
Lane comes up behind her, his hands low on her waist, pulling her back against him like she’s gravity and he’s finally giving in.
I know that feeling. That undeniable magnetic pull.
She giggles, sinking into him further, her tight black dress riding high on her bare thighs. The oversized flannel slips off her shoulder, exposing the thinnest little strap of her dress. I shift on my feet and remind myself that it’s none of my business, even if I can’t help but wish I was the one who was going to take it off her tonight.
Then it clicks.The flannel.
A pit forms in my stomach when I realize where I’ve seen it before.
Yesterday. When Lane was wearing it.
It’s not oversized—it’s amen’sshirt.
She’s wearing his fucking shirt.
I can’t watch this shit anymore.
Landon pats me on the shoulder, voice low. “Wanna step out with me while I smoke?”
But I’m in too deep. My vision tunnels.
I wedge in the space beside Lydia and flag down Brantley, ordering another beer I probably shouldn’t.
While I wait, I overhear Lydia’s loud-ass mouth over the music.
“You did not! He made you cry?” she gasps.
