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To add fuel to fire, Owen's here. I've kept my distance all night, subtly shimmying away when he dances over or excusing myself to get a drink or darting to the bathroom. I know I can't avoid him forever, and that comes to fruition when we pile into a booth at the back of the club and Owen makes sure to snag a spot beside me.
Dread settles in my stomach as he slinks an arm around my shoulders. “You ignored my texts.”
I pointedly shrug him off. “You didn't take the hint.”
“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his chest, mouth downturned in an exaggerated hurt expression. “Watch the claws, Lu. What did I do?”
When I mentally scramble for an excuse as to why I've done a complete one-eighty and given him the cold shoulder, all I come up with is the truth. Fiddling with the straw of my drink, I cast a nervous glance in the girls' direction. They're not paying us any attention, too caught up in squawking about the latest gossip, but I drop my voice and scoot closer to Owen as a precaution. “I'm seeing someone.”
He blinks. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You,” he repeats slowly, “are seeing someone.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Monogamously.”
A spark of irritation straightens my spine. “Yes, asshole.”
“Sorry.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “Just never thought I'd see the day Luna Evans got a boyfriend.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
It’s a testament to their ability to sniff out gossip, how Eva and Bea manage to hear the one thing I’d rather they didn’t in a rowdy, noisy club. I cringe at their gaping expressions, their jaws practically on the floor. “No, I don't.”
“You just said you were seeing someone.”
“I am. But he's not my boyfriend.”
Eva crooks a snooty brow. “But he's getting all the benefits.” I shrug, because how the fuck else do I respond to that? The girls exchange glances before erupting into giggles. “Oh, sweetie. Luna's been Luna'd.”
My stomach twists in a knot. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“All that sleeping around and messing with boys' heads was going to catch up with you eventually,” Bea explains as casually as if she were talking about the weather, as if what she's saying makes perfect sense, as if she didn't just essentially call me a manipulative slut. “It's, like, karma or something.”
No, I feel like correcting her.This is my karma. Having to suffer in your drab presence.
Before I can vocalize that, though, Owen butts in. Sporting his peacemaker tone, he shoots me pleading glances, silently begging me to let their snide comments go. “Where is he this weekend?”
I sigh and oblige, if only because denying Bea a reaction is oh-so-satisfying. “He's home. His family's got a ranch up near Sequoia.”
One of the girls, I'm not even sure who, snickers. “He's probably rolling around in a barn right now with his childhood sweetheart.”
Their laughter rings in my ears as I slump in my seat, fists clenched on my lap. Owen’s frown sears the side of my face, his shoulder bumping mine gently. “Guys, come on. Enough.”
“We're just kidding,” Eva protests with a pout. She rolls her eyes, letting out an indignant huff before pasting on a fake smile. “So, you like him?”
“Of course she likes him,” Bea jumps in before I can get a word out. “She turned down Owen.”
“Wait until she has a few more shots, she'll change her mind.”
They talk like I'm not even here, dig after dig after dig, ranging from how Jackson's cheating on me to how I'll eventually cheat on him. When they start bitterly pondering how Jackson managed to 'break the Ice Queen,' I down my drink and stand. “I'm gonna go.”
A chorus of whines break out. “We're joking! God, when did you get so sensitive?”
Gathering my bag and jacket, I leave without so much as a backward glance. As I stomp through the club, my annoyance grows. I'm irritated, less so with what they were saying, more so with the fact that I let them say it. I sat and took it like a little bitch when I should've chucked a drink in their faces.
