“Are you seriously flirting with my friend right now?” Asher growls.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say innocently. “Are you dating someone?” I direct this question at Elijah.
His grin grows wider. “No. I don’t date.”
“Funny, neither do I.”
“Care to dance?” Elijah asks, extending his hand to me.
I go to take his hand, but Asher clasps onto my wrist so hard it nearly hurts. “She’s not dancing with you,” he snaps.
Elijah puts his hands up in defense. “If you wanted to dance with her, you should’ve said something. There are always more fish in the sea,” he says before giving me a wink and waltzing off into the crowd.
I spin toward Asher, ripping my arm away from him before planting my hands firmly on my hips. “Is this going to be a recurring experience every time I encounter you outside of the classroom?”
He turns his glare away from his friend and back onto me. “What exactly are you referring to?”
“Men hitting on me and despite you consistently reminding me how much of a mistake interacting with me in any capacity is, you’ll growl and bark at anything paying attention to me?”
“Growling and barking seems a bit over dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Considering you just scared off one of the only people who seems to be able to put up with your surly attitude on a regular basis? No, I don’t think it’s all that overdramatic.”
“I don’t think anyone has ever referred to me as ‘surly’ before,” he says with a grin as he leans closer to me, bracing his arms on the standing table between us.
“Maybe not to your face,” I respond sweetly. “But I’m sure behind your back they have.” This back and forth—paired with Asher’s crazy mood swings—makes me dizzy.
His hand goes to his chest, pretending to be hurt. “You wound me, Ms. Nyx.”
Yes. Remind me that whatever this is, it is completely inappropriate.
“And on that note, I’m outa here,” I toss back, flashing a wave before heading to the dance floor.
As I’m shoving my way through the crowd of people, I catch sight of golden-brown hair towering above the people near him. A terrible idea starts to form in my head.
It’s a bad idea. A really bad idea.
“Elijah!” I call over the blaring music.
He turns at the sound of his name before his eyes land on me. His gaze darts behind me before a smug smile flits across his lips. “Ah, Summer. Fancy a dance after all?”
“I think I just might,” I respond, ignoring the fact that I can feel Asher glaring daggers into my back. “Your friend might kill you, though.” I smirk.
“You mean your professor?” he asks, and I give a slow nod. “That seems inappropriate, don’t you think?” His tone is mocking, and mischief glints in his eyes, but when he looks at Asher, there’s something else. A look of genuine love and what seems to be understanding comes over him, as if he gets how Asher is feeling and sympathizes with him.
“Completely,” I say, dragging Elijah’s gaze back to me.
A cocky grin spreads across his lips, though the smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He looks hollow. The thought evaporates ashe continues talking. “But we’re not attached in any way, shape, or form, so dancing together wouldn’t hurt anything.”
Though it might hurtsomeone.
“Does this make you a bad friend?” I ask coyly, taking a step closer.
He laughs. “I actually think this makes me quite a good friend. Maybe he just needs a little push to really go after what he wants.”
His hands lightly tug on my waist to pull me closer, but don’t drift any lower than my hips. He leans in, his breath ghosting across the shell of my ear. “If he punches me, you owe me, troublemaker.”
He pulls back, and something flashes through his eyes, like nostalgia or longing, but it’s gone before I can analyze it.
