Page 127 of Show Me

It’s ridiculous. Embarrassing. And entirely my own fault. Because Xavier made himself clear.

The band starts another song. People crowd closer to the dance floor. A couple brushes past our table. Then a shadow falls across us.

“Hey, Ruby.” I look up. Derek Hudson stands beside the table, hands shoved into his pockets, an easy smile on his face. “You wanna dance?”

The question hangs there. I’ve talked to him before. Even went out with him a time or two. But there weren’t any sparks. At least, on my end.

Bella’s eyes flick to mine. Emily doesn’t move. Doesn’t intervene. Just watches. I hesitate. Not long. Just enough to feel it.

If I say no, it means something. If I say yes… it means something too. I set my glass down. “Okay.”

Derek’s smile widens. He offers his hand. I take it. Let him pull me up, lead me toward the dance floor. His grip is light. Respectful. He doesn’t crowd me, doesn’t assume anything. It should feel comfortable. It does. Mostly.

I focus on the music, on the rhythm, on putting one foot in front of the other and pretending this is just a normal night. A normal choice. His hand settles at my waist. Not possessive. Not familiar. Just there.

I let myself move with it. Let myself exist in something that doesn’t feel complicated.

The door opens again, and cold air spills into the bar. Something shifts. Subtle. But immediate. I feel it—that same awareness, like the room tilted half a degree.

My head lifts. Xavier. He’s just inside the doorway. Still. Scanning. His gaze moves across the room and finds me. On the dance floor. In someone else’s arms.

Derek says something I don’t hear. The music keeps playing. But everything inside me goes very, very still.

Chapter Sixty-Six

Xavier

The second I see her, my chest aches. She’s on the dance floor. In another man’s arms. Not close. Not intimate. Nothing about it crosses a line. That doesn’t matter.

She looks… comfortable. Like the last several weeks didn’t happen. Like the yard, the gate, the cameras going dark didn’t follow her in here.

My jaw locks. Too many people. Too much noise. No one paying attention. She looks up. Finds me. And stills.

The guy says something. She doesn’t answer. Just watches me. I start toward the dance floor. A hand clamps down on my shoulder.

“Easy,” Ben mutters. He hooks an arm around my neck, steering me sideways like we’re heading for a drink. “Not here.”

“I’m not–”

“Yeah, you are.”

I glance back. She’s still there. Watching. The guy leans in, says something else. She nods. The song ends.

Ruby can dance with whoever she wants. It’s none of my business.

I grab my beer and take a long drink. Try to focus on the game. The conversation next to me. Anything except the redhead that’s currently letting some guy spin her around the dance floor.

The song ends. Another starts. People shift. Couples trade partners. She doesn’t. I tell myself that whatever irritation is crawling under my skin will disappear if I give it a minute.

It doesn't.

A few minutes later, Ruby slips off the dance floor. Alone. She heads toward the hallway. I stare at my bottle. Count to ten. Then twenty. Long enough that nobody can accuse me of following her. Long enough to convince myself I'm checking on her, not chasing after her. Neither explanation feels particularly convincing.

I set my beer down. The hallway near the restrooms is quieter. Dimmer. The noise from the bar dulls to a low hum. She’s there. Alone. She looks up when I step into the space. Doesn’t look surprised. Just… tired.

“What’re you doing?” I ask. Too sharp.

She crosses her arms. “Going to the bathroom.”