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“Cheers to you.” I tapped my water glass against hers. When she tilted her head and finished the glass, I raised my eyebrow. “For someone who seemed hesitant to let me in earlier, you don’t seem to be too upset I’m here.”
Her blush deepened, and Amanda bit down on her lip. “Thank you for coming to celebrate with me. You’re really sweet.”
The laughter bubbled up from her chest, and I couldn’t prevent the smile from tugging at my cheeks. “I’m sweet, hmm?” It wasn’t something I was described as very often. Or ever.
“You are.” She looked at the bottle on the table, debating a refill.
I chuckled. “I’m not usually called sweet.” I gave her a slow once-over.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked suddenly, reaching for the bottle of champagne. I nodded. “Why don’t you drink?”
I shrugged. It was a question I got asked a lot, one I wasn’t often fond of answering. It wasn’t easy to admit I’d lost all control when faced with the stuff. “I loved it too much,” I explained. Amanda reached over and took my hand with the one that didn’t hold her glass.
“What happened?” She looked concerned, or maybe like she pitied me. Either way, it made my stomach harden.
I took a deep breath while she took a drink, stifling a chuckle when she paused mid-gulp. “It became something I couldn’t control. I drank so much that one night I passed out in a bar. The only person that helped me was—”
“Bryson,” she interrupted, her jaw dropping. “I know that story. I didn’t know that was you.” She turned and sat her glass on the table, sliding closer to me.
“He saved my life. I’d do anything for him.” I smiled at her when she beamed, like she was proud to be his sister. Don’t fuck my sister. I cringed, drawing a quickly concerned glance. “Okay, almost anything.”
Amanda covered her mouth to muffle her chuckle. She hummed, reaching onto her knees like she was either going to climb into my lap or off the couch completely. Before I could find out, a heavy knock on the door made the room around us freeze.
Amanda’s eyes widened, and she gasped. By the way she stared at the door but shrank into the sofa, I figured she wasn’t used to having people knock on her door this late.
“Are you expecting someone?” I asked. The hairs on the back of my neck raised when she shook her head.
“No,” she whispered.
I stood up from the couch, holding out my hand when she started to follow me. “Stay there. I’ll get the door.”
Amanda dropped back onto the couch but stayed crouched on her knees. She didn’t move from her spot, only turning her head and following my steps. I peeked through the small window by the door, groaning when I saw the blond-haired man on the other side.
“Oh hey, look,” I said with false excitement, swinging the door open. “It’s San Antonio!”
Behind me, Amanda stifled a tipsy laugh with a small snort, but Dallas glared at me. “What the hell?” he asked, not waiting for an invite before he stepped forward and into the house. “Amanda? Are you here?”
I hadn’t heard her get off the couch or make her way to the entryway behind me, and when she spoke, I almost jumped. “What do you want, Dallas?” she asked. I could feel her breath on my shoulder.
“I want to talk to you.” He gave her a slow once-over before he scanned what he could see of the living room, likely noting the tiny shorts and tattered cropped sweatshirt she called pajamas and the empty champagne glasses. Dallas narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. “You moved on quick.”
“Moved on? Dallas, you weren’t my boyfriend, remember?” Did she sound hurt or defensive? By the way she choked on her words, I almost couldn’t tell.
He looked at her and glared. “I shouldn’t be surprised. An easy whore like you will move onto anyone that wants her.”
Amanda stiffened behind me and gave a sharp inhale. “Want to call her that again and see if you walk out of here on both legs?” I asked, moving forward and forcing him back a step. My anger seethed inside me, and I knew my face showed every bit of it.
“Should’ve known—” Dallas started, but when I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, he shut his mouth.
Amanda’s hand was gentle on my arm, and she tugged, encouraging me to step back. “Don’t. It’s not worth it,” she said, running her fingers over my clenched fist. I opened my hand, letting her trace the lines on the inside of my palm and taking a deep breath.
“Are you fucking him?” Dallas asked, and Amanda dropped my hand.
“It’s none of your business.” She puffed out her chest, but even when she did, she still looked petite next to the two of us. We both towered over her by several inches. Her frustration poured from her, though, making her bigger.
Dallas ran his hands through his hair and tugged before he closed his eyes. “You’ll regret it. You know that, right?” Was he talking to Amanda or me?
Suddenly it was like a rubber band had snapped, releasing Amanda’s pent-up energy. “Maybe I will!” she shrieked. “That would be my decision to regret, though, not yours. It’s none of your business.” She emphasized every word, jabbing her pointer finger into his chest at the same time.
