Page 8 of More For Me

Of course he is. LA is crawling with smarmy assholes with vague titles in “development,” and “management,” and I swear she’s dated more than half of them.

A few years ago, when Everly, Alex, and Fox were first starting up their fashion line, a cable network offered them a reality show to document the start-up process. The fact that they were the kids of some of the world’s most famous musicians led to a lot of interest.

The show is still going strong, though Alex has taken a step back and isn’t featured as much as Everly or Fox. I even make the occasional appearance, along with the other Ransome kids. My students love to give me shit about it.

Overall, I think being on TV has been good for Everly. The girl was clearly born to be a star. But I don’t like some of the attention that she attracts. Mainly from the Treys of the world.

But I can’t tell her that. Because I’m just theroomie.

“Why didn’t you bring a date?” she asks.

I make a face and spread my arms wide. “And deprive all these women of my company? I could never.”

She laughs, but she looks a little wistful. “Will you save a dance for me?”

“I’ll save all my dances for you,” I blurt out. I paste on my best Bodhi-charming-fun-guy smile. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

She opens her mouth, looking like she wants to say something, but we’re interrupted by the bartender holding out our drinks. I take my beer and hand her the Cosmo. She looks down at the drink for a long moment, not saying anything, then her eyes dart up to her date’s back further down the bar. “Thanks,” she says, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Anytime.”

She finally looks up at me, and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite identify. Which is weird, because I’m supposed to be the guy that knows her every expression. “Bodhi—”

“Hey!” a girlish voice squeals, hands wrapping around my forearm. I look down to see one of Everly’s sisters, Santana, with their cousin Lyric at her side. “We asked the DJ to play that song from TikTok. You promised us you’d teach us the dance!”

I grin at Everly, even as I wish her sisters could have waited just a few more minutes to come over. “Duty calls.”

Whatever was in her eyes fades and she grins at us. “It must be tough being the life of the party.”

“What about you?” Santana asks, looking up at her big sister. “You’ve barely been on the dance floor.”

“Except for slow songs with yourboyfriend,” Lyric adds, smirking in that annoying little cousin way.

Everly rolls her eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

And just like that, I’m feeling much more in the mood to dance.

“You should come with us,” Santana presses. “If he doesn’t want to dance that’s on him.”

Everly looks from her sister, to me, then, oddly, down at the drink in her hand. Her shoulders shift slightly, straightening, and when she looks up her expression is determined. “You’re right. This is a family night.” She slides her free arm through her sister’s, holding her drink high in her other hand. “Let’s dance!”

The girls cheer and start to pull away, but Everly pauses to look over her shoulder, meeting my eyes. “That includes you, Bodhi.”

“Of course it does,” Santana agrees. “You’re totally family.”

I smile as I follow the girls to the dance floor. Would it have been nice to be Everly’s date tonight? Absolutely. But this—this is better. Because he’s going to go home at the end of the night and will probably only see her a few more times, if that. Me? I’m sticking around for good.

* * *

Two hours later,the party is still going strong. I’ve spent most of that time dancing and drinking and generally having a great time. It helps that douchebag Trey has spent most of the evening networking with industry people, leaving Everly free to hang out with me.

I’m back at the bar for another refill when I find myself surrounded by Ransome men. “Forget the beer,” River says, holding up a bottle of patron. “We’ve got the good stuff.”

It’s probably not a good idea to start on tequila when I’ve already had beer and whiskey tonight, but what the hell. It’s a party and I’m feeling too good to worry much about tomorrow’s hangover.

Will, Fox, and River all sit down with me at a table a ways from the dance floor. That should be my first clue—Wyatt isn’t with them. Since the oldest Ransome cousin is generally the person that keeps the rest of them from acting like dumbasses, I should probably assume that I’m in some trouble right now.

“We have a plan,” Fox says, his voice more than a little slurred.