My phone won’t stop buzzing in my pocket like an angry wasp trapped against my thigh.
Ashley’s driving us downtown, her knuckles white against the steering wheel. The city lights blur past the windows, and I can feel each vibration through the denim of my jeans. Ten times now. Maybe more. I’ve stopped counting.
“Who keeps texting you?” Ashley asks, her eyes flicking from the road to me and back again.
I pull my phone out just enough to see the screen. Portia’s name glows up at me, and my stomach drops. ‘hey stop fucking ignoring me’
I shove it back in my pocket and hit the side button to silence it. “It’s no one.”
Ashley’s eyebrow arches. “Did you make a new friend?”
“No.”
She’s quiet for a second, then her voice comes out smaller. “Why do you seem so annoyed?”
“I’m really not.”
“I feel like you’re being harsher with me?” There’s something almost vulnerable in the way she phrases it as a question.
Guilt twists in my gut. “I’m sorry.”
She sighs, long and heavy, filling the car with the weight of everything we’re not saying. The GPS announces we’re arriving at our destination, and Ashley pulls into a parking spot in front of a sleek apartment building. It’s nice, clearly expensive, all glass and modern architecture.
But it’s not Portia’s building. Not even close.
I reach for the door handle, but Ashley’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.
“Hold on,” she says.
I turn back to her. “What’s up?”
She doesn’t meet my eyes, just stares at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
Confusion washes over me. “For what?”
“The other day...” Her voice cracks slightly. “I said you couldn’t win over Caroline. That was...” She pauses, swallowing hard. “I was mad. I feel really bad I said that.”
My chest tightens.
“You’re a really good guy, Vincent,” she continues, finally looking at me. Her green eyes are shining. “And you’ve been really helping me out with all of this.”
Before I can process what’s happening, she’s leaning across the center console and wrapping her arms around me. The hug is tight.
“I’m really thankful,” she whispers against my shoulder.
I hug her back automatically, my arms coming up around her like they’ve done a thousand times before. But inside my head, I’m screaming. Every alarm bell in my brain is going off at once because this feels too good, too right, and I can’t let myself fall back into that pit. I can’t lose her again and survive it.
She pulls back, and I know my face must be doing something weird because her expression shifts immediately.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her eyebrows drawing together with concern.
I nod, forcing everything down, down until it’s buried so deep I can almost pretend it doesn’t exist. “Yeah.”
She studies my face for another second, her hand still resting on my arm. I can feel the warmth of her palm through my hoodie, and it takes everything in me not to lean into it.
“Okay,” she says finally, though she doesn’t sound convinced. “Let’s go then.”
We get out of the car, and the cold night air hits me like a slap. I welcome it. Anything to shake off the feeling of her arms around me, the sound of her saying she’s thankful for me.
Ashley leads the way to the building entrance, and I follow a step behind.
The doorman looks up from his desk as we approach, his face professionally neutral. Ashley steps forward, her voice steadier than mine would be right now.
“We’re here for the King residence,” she says.
He nods, glancing down at what I assume is some kind of guest list. “301,” he says, gesturing toward the elevators.
“Thanks,” Ashley murmurs.
My legs feel like they’re made of lead as we walk to the elevator. The doors slide open with a soft ding, and we step inside. Ashley hits the button for the third floor, and the doors close, sealing us in this tiny metal box together. The silence is suffocating.
The elevator dings again, and the doors open onto a carpeted hallway. My stomach is doing backflips now, threatening to expel whatever’s left of the dinner I barely touched earlier. Ashley walks ahead with more confidence than I can muster, and I follow like a condemned man walking to the gallows.
We stop in front of a door marked 301. Ashley glances at me one more time, something unreadable in her expression, then knocks.
After a moment the door swings open, and there’s Dante, looking like he just stepped out of a cologne ad. His blonde hair is perfectly styled, his smile is bright and welcoming, and he’s holding what looks like a glass of whiskey in one hand.
“Hey!” he says, his voice friendly. “Come in, come in!”
Behind him, Caroline appears, and my breath catches in my throat. She’s wearing a simple dress, her brown hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She’s smiling too, that gentle, kind smile I’ve seen a thousand times from across classrooms and hallways.
“Hi,” she says softly. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
We step inside, and I take in the apartment. It’s nice, really nice, with an open floor plan and modern furniture. There’s soft music playing from somewhere, and the lighting is low and warm.
Dante closes the door behind us and immediately claps a hand on my shoulder. The contact is firm, and it makes me jump slightly.
“Dude,” he says, his grin widening. “To think we just ran into you guys a few weeks ago, and now we’re doing something like this.”
“Yeah… Crazy.”
“Can I get you guys drinks?” Caroline asks, already moving toward what looks like a well-stocked bar cart in the corner. “We’ve got wine, beer, some mixed drinks...”
Ashley’s already nodding, her eyes tracking Dante’s every movement like a hawk. “Wine would be great,” she says.
I find myself speaking up before I can stop myself. “I’ll have something harder than wine.”
Dante’s grin widens, and he shoots me this knowing look. “Swinging jitters, huh?”
“Yeah... something like that.”
He moves to the bar cart, pouring something amber into a glass for me while Caroline handles the wine for Ashley. The silence stretches awkwardly as they work, and I’m hyperaware of every breath I take, every shift of my weight from one foot to the other.
We migrate to the living room, settling onto their ridiculously comfortable couch. I end up next to Ashley, with Caroline and Dante taking the loveseat across from us.
Caroline tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her brown eyes warm as she looks between Ashley and me. “So,” she says, her voice gentle, “we went to high school together.”
Ashley and I nod in unison. “Yeah,” I manage to say, my throat tight.
“Small world,” Caroline says with a soft laugh. She tilts her head slightly, her expression curious but kind. “How long have you two been dating?”
“A year and a half,” Ashley answers immediately, the lie rolling off her tongue like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Dante leans back in his seat, his arm draped casually around Caroline’s shoulders. “Oh nice. We’ve been dating a bit over a year.”
I nod, lifting my glass to my lips. The whiskey burns going down, but I welcome it. Anything to give me something to focus on besides the surreal nightmare I’ve walked into.
“Should we talk rules?” Dante asks suddenly, his tone shifting to something more businesslike.
I drain the rest of my drink in one long gulp, the alcohol hitting my empty stomach like a bomb.
Ashley shifts beside me. “Yeah?”
Dante’s smile is easy, confident. “I’m mostly hands off. Whatever Caroline says goes.”
My gaze shifts to Caroline. She’s looking at me now, her expression open and reassuring.
“I’m really easy going,” she says, her voice soft. “Unless you have some gross fetishes, Vincent, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
The way she says my name makes my heart stutter. “No. I’m pretty normal.”
“Good.” Her smile widens, warm and genuine, and for a second I remember why I had a crush on her in the first place. She just oozes genuine kindness… And she’s a fucking smoke show.
I glance over at Ashley and catch her staring at Caroline and me. There’s something in her expression I can’t quite place, her jaw’s tight, her eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. When she notices me looking at her, her face smooths out instantly.
Dante’s voice cuts through my observation. “How about you, Ashley? Any rules we should know about?”
Ashley tears her gaze away from me, turning to face Dante. Her fingers drum against her wine glass for just a second before she speaks.
“I guess let’s just play it by ear...” she says, and there’s something off about her tone. Not quite as enthusiastic as I’d expected. She takes a sip of wine, her eyes flicking back to me for just a fraction of a second before returning to Dante.
Dante nods, that confident grin spreading wider across his face. He raises his whiskey glass slightly, like he’s making a toast.
“Well then,” he says, his voice rich with anticipation, “tonight is going to be a lot of fun.”