“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Right, good to know where your priorities are.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is this,” I snap, gesturing between us. “Neither is you walking in there with him.”
The noise of the hall fades out. It’s just her, me, and the knot in my stomach because I can’t stop picturing Ivan’s paws all over her.
“Fine. I walk in with him. Ten minutes. One dance, and I’m out. We meet outside and we go to The Pit. Okay?”
I grind my teeth. I still want to hit something. Still want to drag her out of here and take her home. But she’s looking at me like I’m the only goddamn thing in this room that matters.
“…Ten minutes,” I grind out.
“Ten minutes,” she repeats, relief washing over her face.
She bumps my shoulder. “Try not to punch him.”
“No promises.”
She gives me a real smile this time.
“Sisk?” Ivan’s voice breaks our bubble, and we turn. His eyes find her first, all hopeful, then they slide to me. I watch the whole fucking thing play out in his face: the surprise, the confusion, then the slow, sick burn of jealousy. He wasn’t counting on me showing up, he thought he had a clear shot.
“Ivan,” I give him a smile that could curdle milk.
Kid looks like he’s about to puke. His jacket’s strangling him, the tie’s crooked, and he’s sweating profusely. He’s trying to look like a man and failing miserably.
“I thought we were going together,” he says to Sisk, trying to pretend I’m invisible.
She hesitates too long for my liking.
“Yeah, about that,” I jump in, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “She stopped by my place first. Had to get my mom’s approval.” I grin at Ivan.
“You look beautiful,” he tells her, his voice all soft and pathetic. Still trying to pretend I’m not standing right here.
“Thanks, Ivan.” She gives him a polite smile. The kind you give a cashier.
“Try not to stare too long though.” I tilt my head. “She’s taken.”
Sisk shifts tense beside me.
“Save me a dance though?” I clap Ivan on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble.
I turn back to Sisk, cup her face in my hands, tilt her head up, and kiss her. Hard. Letting him see exactly who she belongs to.
When I pull back, I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glance. I just murmur in Sisk’s ear, “Have fun,” and walk away in the opposite direction.
I play it cool—shoulders loose, hands in my pockets—like watching him take her arm didn’t just rip my guts out.
I turn the corner and go looking for a distraction. Preferably something in a flask. Or a fist. I pass the bathroom, the janitor’s closet, the half empty vending machines, until I hear it—low voices, hushed and urgent. Two people around the corner, completely oblivious.
“…I’m telling you, Rourke. It’s a full moon again.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It meant something last time.”
