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He gives me an exasperated look. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you he’s an arrogant prick. I should’ve told him to be nicer––”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize on his behalf. I hate how he talked to you. Does he always talk to you that way?”

“Yeah.” He gulps down the rest of his champagne with an expression of pure disgust. “He wasn’t always like this. We had a pretty good relationship when we were younger. My dad just got to him. Chris always wanted to impress him, and the only way to impress my dad is to act like him.”

“We can still leave.”

“No.” He shakes his head but then gives me a worried look. “Unless you feel uncomfortable. Do you want to leave?”

“I’m fine. I’m down to stay.”

“Alright,” he says, reaching for my hand. “Let’s dance.”

Hayden is not a bad dancer. Then again, I’m not sure what we’re doing is considered dancing. But he hasn’t once stepped on my foot, so in my book that means he’s excellent.

The band is mainly playing classical music, and since neither one of us knows any ballroom dances, we’re simply swaying on the dance floor, whispering and laughing as we play our recently made-up game, “Fight or Fuck Hayden.”

“Middle-aged lady with red hair on your left,” I whisper in his ear, my arms wrapped around his neck, his hands gripping my waist. “I’d say she’d want to fuck you.”

“I thought the older ones wanted to fight me,” he says in a hushed tone.

“Not her. I’m pretty sure she just looked at your ass.”

Hayden slowly turns his gaze toward her, pretending he’s looking around the room. “I don’t see it, but I’m flattered if it’s true.”

I snort into his ear. I might be slightly tipsy at this point, having snagged another glass of champagne.

“What about her husband? He’s been looking at you with a glower, but I could be confusing it with intense passion.”

“It would definitely be hate sex,” Hayden chimes in. “He caught me smoking weed in his basement with his daughter when I was sixteen.”

I fake gasp. “You corrupted her innocence.”

“It’s the other way around. She lured me over with the promise of getting high.”

We sway around the room silently for a few minutes until I pipe up again. “Blond man in his thirties on your left would definitely be interested.”

Hayden takes a second to spot the man and then shakes his head. “It’s you he’s interested in,” he murmurs into my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine.

“That’s not the game,” I say, slightly flustered. “And I don’t think so.”

“Trust me, he is. I doubt there’s a single man here who’s not interested.”

I pull back and roll my eyes. “Stop. You’re exaggerating. But it doesn’t matter. He’s not my type.”

“No?”

“I’m not into blond men,” I say, my gaze sweeping over his dark hair before I can stop myself.

Hayden notices and smirks. “Interesting.”

But his good mood is short-lived when he sees something over my left shoulder. I can feel his body tense, and I give him a questioning look.

“My dad is over there,” he says, his eyes back on me. “I thought I saw him earlier, but I wasn’t sure until now.”

“Well,” I say, inhaling deeply. “Do you want to get it over with?”

“Not really,” he confesses, and he looks so defeated that I feel an urge to pull him close to me. “But we have to.”