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I obey, although I make sure he knows I'm deeply offended by the suggestion. Trey waits until I've set the glass down before taking my hand and guiding me toward the center of the club.

The DJ switches tracks, and Trey lets out a delighted shout as the opening beat rolls through the speakers. He knows this song. Apparently, half the club does, too, because people start cheering before the first verse even begins.

“That's my shit!” Trey hollers.

He climbs onto the low platform beside the bar and holds out both hands to help me up. I give him a suspicious look, but he's already grinning, steady on his feet and having entirely too much fun.

“Trey, these heels are not OSHA approved.”

“Baby, nobody invited OSHA. Come on.”

I let him pull me up beside him. He keeps one hand firmly around mine as I find my balance, then throws his free arm into the air.

“Make some noise for my best bitch, Sloane!”

The crowd cheers, and I burst into laughter, grabbing Trey's shoulder when my balance wavers. He steadies me without missing a beat, singing along with the music while I dance beside him.

For a little while, I forget the awful week I've had. I forget everything that has to do with the trio and just dance.

I'm having fun. Actual, uncomplicated fun, with my best friend making a complete spectacle of himself beside me.

seventeen

Tequila Ruins

The second we hit the club doors, I know exactly where she is.

It’s not hard to find her.

Sloane is standing on the bar, tequila-wild and grinning like sin itself, with who I'm assuming is Trey screaming hype-man nonsense at her side.

And God, she's gorgeous.

That little black dress clings to every curve, the hem riding dangerously high on her thighs as she dances. The bodice is held together by a row of gold rings and crisscrossed laces that aren't doing a damn thing to discourage my imagination.

Elias curses beside me. “She's asking for me to tan her little ass.”

Nate's jaw tightens. “We need to get her off that bar. Now.”

He starts forward, and I catch his arm before he can bulldoze straight through the crowd. “I got her,” I say. “If either of you goes over there looking like you’re about to issue a sentence, she’ll turn this into a sport. Let me get her down.”

Nate is hesitant, but he nods once, sharp and clipped. Elias already looks like he’s going to combust.

My lips curl. Yeah. If anyone’s pulling her down from that bar without causing a scene, it’s me.

The crowd parts as I make my way toward the bar, but Sloane doesn't notice me. She's too busy swaying to the beat while Trey steadies her with one hand, a cup of water in the other.

I'm halfway across the room when a conversation to my right catches my attention.

“Bro, look at her. She's fucking wasted.”

“That's what I'm saying,” another man answers. “Easy fucking lay. She probably won't even remember half the shit she does tonight.”

Three men are gathered around a high-top table, all watching Sloane dance.

“If one of y'all can get that twink away from her, I can see what she's about. He's been guarding her all fucking night.”

“Shit, I'll handle him,” the taller one volunteers.