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“Maybe later,” I call back, a smile plastered on, all teeth and no heart. I search for Maddy, but she’s nowhere near them.
The girl nods and returns to the crowd as I allow my feet to carry me forward, each step echoing Juliette’s warning.
“Blake?” I weave through the crowd, my gaze skimming over heads and shoulders, seeking that mop of dark hair I’ve gotten rather fond of.
He stands by the makeshift bar with his back to me, laughter spilling from his lips. Warmth soothes my chest until I move closer, and the picture comes into a sharp, unwelcome focus. Sarah’s lean frame drapes across Blake’s lap with her head tossed back in laughter and hand resting a bit too familiarly on his chest.
“No way…” My stomach lurches, bile rising to scald my throat. The laughter, once distant, now roars in my ears, a cruel chorus to the spectacle before me.
“I told you so.” Juliette’s sing-song voice carries over the music and lands right in my ear.
CHAPTERTWENTY
BLAKE
“Blake,man, you’ve still got it!” The cheers and applause surround me, creating that familiar adrenaline rush that never grows old. But this isn’t what I want. Or rather, who I want. I scan the crowd for Amanda, but they catch on Sarah, who hasn’t left my side since she arrived. My grin doesn’t falter, yet something inside me does. A flicker of guilt, perhaps, for enjoying the moment too much with the wrong girl.
“See, they love you. Imagine what you could achieve if you joined your family business.” Sarah’s fingers brush against my arm, causing me to glance down at her with a half-hearted chuckle. She’s been pushing for me to work with my family for years, unaware of the deal I struck with my father. We’ve known each other since childhood; our families have been friends for ages. Sarah has always been a flirt, something we share in common, but my sister thinks there might be more to it. I never took our banter seriously before, but as her hand trails up my biceps and lingers longer than necessary, I think Emily may be right.
I subtly inch away, hoping Sarah gets the hint. “You know my love for hockey comes first.”
Not exactly a lie. My heart will always belong to the ice, but right now, someone who hasn’t returned from the restroom is preoccupying my thoughts.
I make another attempt to remove Sarah’s hands from me and gently place them at her sides. But somehow, they keep finding their way back to me as if a magnet pulled them. I flash her a smile, trying to convey my need for personal space without rejecting her outright. It doesn’t seem to work.
Sarah seems oblivious to my discomfort. She snuggles closer to me, her warmth seeping into my side. Her fingers work their way to my chest, inching dangerously close to territory that is off-limits. I sigh inwardly, torn between wanting to politely shove her away and not wanting to upset her. “Oh, come on, Blake. You know the company is where you belong.”
“Why are you pushing for this all of a sudden?”
Sarah’s laughter rings in my ears as she leans in further, her breath tickling my neck. My muscles tense at the proximity, but my gaze locks with Amanda’s before I can push Sarah away and create distance.
“Having fun?” Amanda’s voice slices through the noise, sharp and unexpected. I can tell she’s trying to mask her feelings, but I know her too well. Her fists are balled at her sides, clearly indicating she’s upset.
“Princess!” The nickname slips out, a habit I can’t seem to break. My arm tightens reflexively around Sarah, not out of desire but in a misguided attempt to steady myself.
“Ah, is she jealous?” Sarah’s laughter rings out.
“Thanks.” Amanda’s tone drips with venom, her smile brittle. The whispers and stares from those around us only added to the weight of the situation. I’m suddenly very aware of how this looks, how it must feel to her.
“Hey, it’s not—” I start, desperate to explain, but she’s turning away, the disappointment and hurt on her face palpable. I scramble out of Sarah’s grip, much to her dismay.
She huffs. “You’re not seriously going to chase after her, are you?”
“Amanda, wait!” I call out after her, panic rising in my chest. I don’t respond to Sarah as I do exactly that and chase after my girl. But Amanda’s swallowed by the crowd, leaving me to reckon with the mess I’ve made. “Damn it,” I mutter, frustration boiling over. This was supposed to be an easy, no-strings-attached relationship. Yet, here I am, feeling like I’ve just lost something precious over a foolish mistake.
The heat between us feels too real to be just an act. It may have begun as a charade, but I can’t deny that it has evolved into something more. I push through the crowd at the party, focusing on her. I will make things right between us, no matter what it takes.
The cool night air hits me, but it’s nothing compared to the icy reception I receive when I holler, “Where do you think you’re going?”
She spins around, hurt and anger flooding her eyes. I’ve messed up. Big time.
“Away from that spectacle!”
“Come on, Amanda. We were just talking. She’s an old friend of the family. It was nothing—” I try to explain, but my words sound hollow even to my own ears.
“Nothing?” Amanda’s laugh is brittle, like thin ice on a winter pond. Her accusations cut deep, and I flounder under the weight of her gaze. “And what would you call this? Performance Art?”
“You know I wouldn’t?—”
