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“Is he staring?” I ask, afraid to turn around.
“Oh yeah, one hundred percent.”
Shit.
When it was just me and Rowan in the library, there weren’t any rules or social constructs to abide by. There, it was perfectly acceptable for a small-town florist to be man-handled by a wealthy businessman. But the rules matter here, and given his non-reaction to seeing me again, he must know that.
“Want me to tell him to leave you alone?” Piper asks, rolling her shoulders like she’s ready for a fight.
Delusional, probably, but I swear, I can feel Rowan’s gaze on my back. “No, it’s okay, but I think I’m ready to go.”
Piper places our glasses down on a nearby table. “All right. But first, I gotta pee.”
I follow her to the restroom, and the farther we get from the banquet hall, the easier it is to catch my breath.
If he’s hanging out with the socialites, the odds of us crossing paths again are slim, but for some reason, that thought makes my stomach knot.
We nearly collide with Wade as he’s exiting the men’s room, and I wince when half of his drink sloshes on the ground.
“S’cuse you,” Piper snarks, but he ignores her, directing a sneer at me instead.
It’s too much to hope that he’d keep walking.
“Nice outfit.” His cheeks are flushed like he’s already had a bit too much to drink. “Guess I shouldn’t expect the help to look presentable, now should I?”
My face burns as his words hit me like daggers, and I clench my fists. Just once, I want to give this asshole a piece of my mind, but he brushes past me before I get the chance.
After Piper yanks me inside the bathroom, she slips into one of the empty stalls, and I wait for her with my hip resting against the sink.
“Bastard,” I mutter through the shame that’s choking me.
“You know, one day, you’re going to have to tell Wade to suck it.” Her voice echoes around the obnoxiously fancy bathroom. “That’s the only way he’ll ever stop fucking with you.”
I sigh heavily. “No way. Who knows what sort of revenge he’d seek if I did something like that. If I learned anything from dating men who live off their daddy’s dollar, it’s that they can make your life miserable with the snap of their fingers.”
Case in point, Garrett giving me a car, then ripping it away just because he could.
I jump when a beautiful blonde frantically stumbles inside the restroom. Her face is almost as green as her dress, and her arms and chest are covered in a sheen of sweat.
Her gold heels wobble awkwardly as she heads straight for the nearest toilet and retches profusely.
“Oh my god,” I gasp. “Are you okay?”
I don’t recognize her, but when Piper exits the stall next door and peers in on the woman clutching the toilet, she rushes to her aid.
“Claire, what the hell happened?” More retching, then Piper adds, “Ah. Red wine. Well, you really ought to know better after what happened at summer camp before junior year.”
“Wait. Is that Claire Whittaker?”
She’s the daughter of one of the town’s elites, but I hadn’t recognized her without the fishnets, combat boots, and hot pink streaks in her hair. Like Piper, she was always a rebel.
The bathroom door slams open, and Fern Benson, the mayor’s secretary, rounds the corner with her eyes as wide as saucers. When she sees Claire hanging halfway out of the toilet, she mutters a curse.
Clipboard in hand and a wireless headset atop her salt-and-pepper curls, she says, “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes!”
Claire moans before gagging again, and Piper makes a disgusted sound. “Shrimp? You know you’re allergic!”
“Oh, hell. The Goldsteins will have my head if we don’t hit our donation goal,” Fern says, panicked. “We’ve got to replace her before anyone notices.”
