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The anger on Dylan's face is directed at his friend, not me. "You okay, Sky?"
I nod.
"I'm trying to suss out what her deal is, man. This is all fucking dodgy. Look at her... seriously? You can do better than this."
I grit my teeth and step further away, unsure whether to respond. The scene we're causing attracted more interested onlookers.
"This has fuck all to do with you, Jem. Piss off."
"Yeah? You fuck off without telling anyone where, then come back ten times fucking worse than when you left." He scrutinises me. "And for her?"
"I didn't go to Sky. I fucking told you. I met her there!"
"Whatever. You're still a mess thanks to this manipulative… girl."
"You arrogant wanker,” I say, too loudly, certain that ‘girl’ wasn’t his first choice of word.
"Do you want to be in his life or not, summer Sky?" he asks.
"Don't call me that."
"I got a story to tell you..."
"I'm sure you have a whole bunch of stories," I reply.
He lowers his voice and leans towards me. "A story about me and Dylan, and a girl like you."
"That's nice." I want to get away from this guy. ASAP. "Dylan, can we go?"
"Should we tell her our story, Dylan?" presses Jem.
Dylan's face is expressionless, but a muscle twitches in his cheek. Jem raises an eyebrow at Dylan, but whatever he hopes to achieve, Dylan doesn't bite.
"Do what you like," Dylan says.
A grin spreads across his face. "Nah. Maybe Sky can do her own research." He flicks my nose again. "Check out Lily Parker."
"I'm sure Sky can, if she wants," says Dylan in a tone dropping the room temperature. "She’s adept at using Google to investigate people.”
Despite telling Jem I'm not interested, I make a mental note of the girl’s name.
"Yeah, whatever," he says to Dylan, eyes trained on my face. "Little Miss Summer Sky, I’ve got the measure of you." He looks to Dylan. "She'll bring you to your knees, fuck you over, and leave. Haven't you learned anything?"
Dylan shoves Jem. "Stop talking. Now. Not everyone gets involved in the same fucking messes you do."
Jem and Dylan face off, like tomcats ready to tear each other’s fur out. I inhale, wishing the hell I'd stayed in my bedroom. Jem makes a final scornful noise, looks at me as if I'm something from the bottom of his shoe, and backs away.
"She's playing a clever game with you, man," he calls, draining his glass. "I’m only trying to help."
Satisfied he's stirred the pot enough, Jem tips his fingers from his head in a mock salute, and then steps away from us.
Trembling from anger, I shrug off the hand Dylan places on my arm. Jem bumps into a small dark-haired girl and wraps an arm around her shoulder. She smiles, and looks up at him. He whispers something in her ear then slides a hand to her backside, squeezing. My stomach turns. I guess he found his victim then.
I thrust the glass of champagne at Dylan. "I'm leaving."
"Sorry about Jem. He has issues."
"Really? Thanks for pointing that out," I say as my sarcasm barrier rises again.
