“Later,” Troy says quietly.
“Yeah,” Alfie murmurs.
I want to understand what just passed between them, want to believe they’ll actually talk instead of letting this fester, but I’m too drained to try to figure it out.
The door to Moe’s swings open, spilling light and noise into the parking lot.
“Yo, what’s taking so long out here—oh shit.” Ethan freezes in the doorway, taking in the scene. “Should I come back with reinforcements?”
“Already here.” Freddie appears behind him, Alex at his side. “Everything cool out here?”
“Just peachy,” I say, not taking my eyes off Troy. “My brother was just letting go of Alfie. Weren’t you, Troy?”
Troy’s jaw clenches, but he steps back. Alfie straightens, adjusting his shirt but making no move to get away from the wall.
“Well,”—Ethan claps his hands together, too loud in the tense silence—“since nobody’s getting punched, I say this calls for shots!”
Alex elbows him hard. “Read the room, idiot.”
“No,” Troy says finally, still looking at Alfie, “he’s right. We could all use a drink.”
“Several drinks,” Freddie mutters.
The tension cracks slightly. Not gone, but at least fractured enough to breathe through.
The music poundsthrough the floor of The Black Cat, some underground club Ethan insisted we try, claiming it’s the newest and coolest spot for all UMS students. The air is thick with smoke and I am a little more than tipsy. It feels good to move my body to the music and I realize how much I’ve missed letting loose with my friends.
Through the crowd, I spot Alex on the dance floor, moving like she was born for it. A surge of affection hits me - my best friend who dropped everything to be here all the way from California, who isn’t pissed at me for hiding a secret from her all summer.
I spot Troy holding court by the bar—he can’t help it. That movie-star smile of his pulls people in like moths to a flame. Next to him, Ethan stands at his full 6’1”, his strawberry-blonde hair easy to spot even in the dim light. His hand rests casually on Paige’s lower back as she leans into him, having joined us after Moe’s.
Honestly, I’m glad she missed pre-drinks. Let her think we all have our lives together for at least one night before she realizes how spectacularly untrue that is.
We’re a lovable family, but we have our fucked-up moments.
I haven’t seen Alfie in at least twenty minutes.
“I’m going to the bathroom!” I shout over the music to Alex.
She starts to step away from her dance circle. “I’ll come!”
“No, stay! You look amazing out there!”
She hesitates, then grins. “Hurry back!”
The hallway to the bathrooms is dim, the bass from the club a steady pulse beneath my skin. My heels click against the floor—until I collide with someone solid.
Strong hands catch me, steady me.
“Sorry, I—” The words catch in my throat.
Alfie.
His grip doesn’t loosen. His fingers press into my waist like he’s anchoring himself—or maybe me. In the low light, his eyes are unreadable, but the way he’s looking at me? It’s not neutral. Not even close.
“Careful, Tink.”
He doesn’t let go. Instead, his hand shifts lower, fingers spanning my hip like a claim. Like muscle memory.
