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Sweet.

Like I'm twelve.

Like Bishop took pity on me and let me tag along because my brother asked him to.

I straighten my shoulders and drop the paper towel into the trash. The women finally notice me. For half a second, neither speaks.

Then the blonde smiles. “Oh. Hi.”

I meet her eyes in the mirror.

“Hi.”

Her smile falters.

Good.

I turn and walk out before either of them can invent an apology.

I'm not going to cry. I'm not even particularly surprised. I've heard variations of the same thing since high school.

Too curvy.

Too ordinary.

Too bookish.

Too much of one thing and never quite enough of another.

But I didn't come here for their approval.

And I refuse to let two strangers ruin a night I've genuinely enjoyed. I make it halfway down the corridor, realizing I’ve gone the wrong way when I hear Bishop's voice.

“Ladies.”

I stop.

Not because I'm hiding. Because the blonde from the bathroom has apparently caught up with him near the ballroom entrance, and I'm not particularly interested in walking into the middle of that conversation.

“Hayes Bishop,” she says brightly. “I was hoping I'd run into you.”

“Having a good night?”

“Better now.”

I freeze against the wall, just out of sight.

“Your date is adorable, by the way.”

There's a pause.

“Delaney?”

“Yes. It's so nice of you to bring her.”

“Nice of me?”

“Well, with Declan being in St. Louis and everything. I'm sure she appreciated having somewhere to go since she’s basically living with you, right?”