His eyes slid back to her. “Come on, Aura. Don’t be like that.”
The words made her flinch visibly, and now I wanted fucking answers. I could feel the truth rising toward the surface.
“Don’t say my name again, and maybe I won’t have to.”
Briggs leaned back in his chair, but his face had gone still. The table was starting to feel it too. There were too many triggers. Whatever this was, it wasn’t normal campus recognition or an old acquaintance being annoying. There was history in Maddox’s grin, and none of it was harmless.
Maddox looked around again, clearly enjoying the audience. “Round of tequila for the table. Pitcher of PBR. And whatever she recommends, since apparently Aura knows how to serve now.”
My beer bottle stopped halfway to my mouth.
Aura’s lashes lowered once before she wrote down the order. “Tequila. PBR. And a reminder that tipping thirty percent is smart when the statute of limitations hasn’t expired.” She looked directly at him, no bullshit left in her expression. “Maddox Vincent.”
Briggs made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh if the air hadn’t gone so tight.
Maddox smirked. “Still threatening men when you get cornered?”
Aura looked at him then, really looked at him. The polished customer-service layer burned away so fast it left only the blade underneath. “I don’t need to be cornered to threaten men, Maddox.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping but remaining loud enough for our table to hear. “I remember.”
The room narrowed, and Aura’s pen stopped moving.
My spine went rigid. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Every pair of eyes at the table shifted toward me.
Maddox blinked like he had forgotten I was sitting there. Then his gaze moved between Aura and me, and something cruel lit behind his eyes.
“Oh.” His grin sharpened. “You don’t know.”
Aura’s gaze cut toward mine for the first time all night. Not fully and not long enough to give me anything, but enough for me to see that she was terrified of whatever he was about to say.
My stomach dropped before I understood why.
“Drink order is in,” Aura said, already stepping back. “Hannah will bring it.”
Maddox’s voice followed her. “You really don’t have a type, huh? Hockey player now?”
Aura stopped as Maddox leaned back in his chair, comfortable in the damage because men like him always mistook discomfort for power.
“I mean, no judgment. You always did like attention.”
Briggs pushed his chair back an inch.
Rider’s hand came down against the table, flat and quiet.
Aura turned slowly. “Say that again.”
Maddox raised one shoulder. “What? I said no judgment.”
“No, you wanted attention. You have it.” She smiled, but it was dead at the edges. “Say it again.”
His eyes flicked around, catching the way people had begun watching, and some smarter instinct should have told him to shut up.
It didn’t.
“Come on. Everybody knows about you,” he said. “Everybody knew about that party too.”
