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Nera
Of all the bars in Geneva, they had to choose to drink in this one. They belong to at least two gentlemen’s clubs and yet here they are, sitting less than twenty meters away from me and my second biggest secret. Or is he my biggest?
I should stay away from them. Half a room separates us, they’ll likely never look over here.
And yet, when I look over, I see a devastated Rhys. I can’t just sit here without making sure he’s okay. He and Thayer broke up a couple of weeks ago and I know he hasn’t been handling it well. It’s hard to see the joker of our little fucked up group so miserable. He doesn’t look anything like himself.
“Tristan.”
“Mmm?” He says, taking a sip of champagne. His gaze snaps to mine at my tone and immediately follows my line of sight.
He pauses momentarily when he sees who I’m looking at. I expect him to look terrified of being found out, but he’s unmoved. He doesn’t react at all, except for a small narrowing of his eyes.
His reaction surprises me.
“I’m going to go say hi and make sure he’s okay.”
I caught Tristan up to speed on Rhys and Thayer weeks ago so he knows the situation well.
His hand tightens on my thigh.
“He has his own friends.”
“I know but now that I've seen him, I have to report back to Thayer just how miserable he looks. It’s girl code. She’s going to want details so I need a closer look.”
He grumbles and releases me.
I slide out of the booth and stand. I’ve barely taken a step before he’s reaching out and grabbing my hand. I look down at him over my shoulder, my arm extended behind my back where he holds me.
He gives me an icy look from beneath his dark eyebrows.
“Beverycareful in that dress,” he warns.
I nod and smile and his hand drops to hook one finger around mine on the way down before it falls back against his side.
I wink at him and give him my own cocky smirk, and then I walk away, swaying my hips seductively from side to side with each step I take away from him. The metallic fabric jumps up and down, teasing the skin right below my ass.
Behind me, I hear him mutter a slew of creative curses.
I walk around the bar and up to where Rhys is half slumped over the counter, Rogue and Phoenix talking to him quietly.
I tap his back and when he turns, his eyes widen slightly.
“How are you, Rhys?”
“Fine, how is she doing?”
“She might kill me for saying this, but about as well as you seem to be doing.”
She’s not drinking herself into a stupor, but her spark is gone. She goes to class and to practice and she comes home and she has dinner with us, but the banter is subdued.
She’s justsadand, as a sad girl myself, it’s hard to see.
“Tell me what I need to do to make her forgive me.”
“She’s the only one who can answer that and I think she doesn’t know the answer herself. For what it’s worth, I think she will forgive you.”
“Yeah?”
