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“It’ll be good to see a familiar face when I’m there,” I told him.
“Yeah, I just need a date.”
His eyes passed over Blaire to the girl who had bypassed Gavin to sit with a redhead. She was nearly as short as I was with lavender hair and an effervescent smile. Until Gavin looked at her. Then, it dropped, and she quickly averted her gaze.
There must be a story there.
“And who wouldn’t want to go with Gavin King?” Blaire asked.
The last member of their group dropped a hand on Gavin’s shoulder and laughed, overhearing our conversation. “Gavin doesn’t have a problem finding girls, just keeping them.”
Gavin clapped a hand to his chest. “Sam, you wound me.”
“Just ask Whitley to go with you,” Sam said, gesturing to the lavender-haired girl.
“In what universe would she want to go with me?”
“She was in LA for almost three years,” Sam said. “A lot can change in three years.”
Blaire and I exchanged a look. “Sounds like a story,” Blaire said.
Gavin sighed heavily, as if resigned to what was about to happen.
Sam arched an eyebrow at him and then explained, “He and Whitley had a fling a few years back when she and her boyfriend were broken up. She got back with her boyfriend, and he found out they’d hooked up. It was a huge blowup in the middle of Fashion Week.”
“I wouldn’t do that to Robert.”
“Robert is seeing someone else. Happily. And he doesn’t blame you anymore,” Sam interjected with a pointed look.
“I say, go for it,” Blaire said. “That sounds like a lot of wasted time.”
I bit my lip. I knew the feeling of betrayal in all of this. I’d experienced it myself. But three years was a long time to hold on to that feeling, and it was clear to me in Gavin’s look that he still felt something for Whitley.
“Definitely,” I agreed. “I’ll look out for you at the wedding.”
Gavin’s eyes strayed back to Whitley, as if he could will her to look at him. “We’ll see.”
That was the end of that conversation. The song shifted, and English was there, pulling everyone out onto the dance floor. I laughed as Blaire grabbed me and took me with her. I let loose in the crush of it all. I’d never been much of a dancer, but it was liberating with so many people all in one place.
Then, I felt hands on my hips. I gasped, ready to scold whoever was touching me, but a mouth was at my ear. “It’s me.”
I relaxed back against West. There were so many people, but still, not enough to completely hide that we were dancing this close. That our movements were perfectly synced, as if we’d worked overtime at night to synchronize our bodies. But no one seemed to care that we were this close. No one paid any attention at all.
And for this night, I forgot about the potential consequences to our entanglement and let myself pretend that this was forever. It was a dangerous thought. A thrilling idea. One I shouldn’t want this bad.
Yet I couldn’t lie to myself and say I didn’t want Weston Wright.
