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I need a shot of tequila more than I need to breathe right now, but a quick glance at the closest bar reveals Dean, Kellan, Kiara, and Anaya are there now. The latter three must have left the stage when I turned around.
“Yes. But let’s go to that bar over there!”
Before she can protest that it makes no sense to go to the other bar, I grab Dylan and start pulling him toward it. May follows along beside us, and I promise myself I’ll leave them to get back to their flirting after one round. Then I’ll find Lori, and maybe she’ll snap me out of my mood and give me a pep talk to go up to Kellan and act normal.
This bar is more crowded than the other one, but neither Dylan nor May says anything about it. The music is still loud over here, but less so since we’re in the farthest corner from the DJ.
Dylan orders us a round of tequila and it doesn’t burn going down as much as it did at the beginning of the night. As Dylan turns to the bartender to order a second round of drinks, May turns her sultry gaze on me.
“So, are you guys like, together?” She gestures between me and Dylan, whose back is to us.
My eyes bulge. “Me and Dylan? Ew, no.”
“Perfect. So you don’t mind if I . . .” She trails off, leaving me to pick up what she’s insinuating.
“He’s all yours.”
She flashes me a satisfied smile. “Perfect. What resort are you guys at anyway?”
I tell her the name, and she pouts. “Boo,” she says. “I’m at the resort next door. Guess that’ll complicate things with McHottie over there.” She hitches her thumb over her shoulder to point at Dylan, who’s still waiting for the drinks.
I shrug for lack of anything else to say. Security would make it hard for either of them to walk into the resort they aren’t staying at.
“So,” she says, even though the music makes it hard to talk.
“What’s up with the two of you? You’re really just friends with him? He’s, like, totally hot.”
“Yup, just friends. Dylan’s just . . . Dylan.” He’s good-looking, I know that because I have eyes, but he’s never given me massive butterflies. He’s never made my heart pound out of my chest or sucked all the air from my lungs when he walked into a room. Not like Kellan does.
I must have developed a stupid, dreamy look on my face because May clues in immediately. “Ah. There’s another guy.”
I force myself not to glance in Kellan’s direction. “Even if there wasn’t, Dylan would still be all yours.”
She leans against the bar, close to where Dylan is now paying for our drinks, and scans the crowd. “So where’s the dreamboat you’re all hung up on?”
Like magic, and against my will, my eyes zip right to Kellan.
I can see him clearly even from here. Dean’s white shirt is now stained bright red, but that’s not the most important thing at this minute. All I care about is that Kellan and Kiara are all over each other. She dips her head in low and close to his, and I swear she plants a kiss on his neck.
The room is spinning, whether from alcohol or jealousy I’m not sure, but the pounding in my chest is ten times louder than the music. I have no claim on Kellan, but the way Kiara’s hand rests on his chest as he leans in closer to hear whatever she’s saying and the way her chest presses up against him makes my vision blur. I need him to pay attention tome, but I can’t just march over there and cause a scene, especially after I’m the one who stupidly turned down a dance with him when he was so obviously flirting. He looks up, and from across the room we make eye contact. We stare at each other for one beat, two, then he looks away and laughs at something Kiara says.
He wants to flirt in front of me? Fine. Two can play at that game, and I can play it better, especially since I know flirting with his friends makes him jealous.
Where’s Dylan? Once I find him, Kellan will realize I’m not sitting around pining after him, even though that’sexactlywhat I’m doing. I spin around, planning to drag Dylan over to my friends and openly flirt with him, but he and May are now all over each other just like Kiara and Kellan.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck it all straight to hell. The frustration clawing at my chest isn’t letting me think straight, and I’m sure the tequila isn’t helping. But I don’t feel drunk—I just feelangry. And hurt. And like curling up into a ball and crying.
And like slapping him and shouting,Why am I not good enough?!
You can’t be angry at him for a game you started, says a small voice in the back of my mind, but I push it all the way down and stuff it in a box labeled “future Faye’s problems” and kick it into the recesses of my head. Yes, I started flirting with his friends first, and yes, this is me getting a taste of my own medicine.
But if he thought of me as more than a fun, discreet sidepiece, we wouldn’t be in this mess. We would be . . . together? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because weareplaying games and I’mnotmore than his secret fuck buddy.
Fayanna Murray is no one’s dirty little secret, and I’ll be damned if I let Kellan use me then toss me aside for the next girl when he’s done, not while I have real feelings for him. Not ever.
The bartender finally places three shot glasses in front of Dylan, and before I can think about it, I grab two of them and throw them both back in quick succession. Then I reach for the third and swallow it down immediately after the first two, ignoring the bewildered looks on Dylan and May’s faces. The sting of the tequila is dulled by the hollow pit in my stomach, but I grab a lime slice anyway and suck on it.
“What the hell, Faye?” Dylan exclaims, but my gaze zeroes in on Dean, who’s still wiping what’s probably cranberry juice off his shirt with little bar napkins. Dylan’s preoccupied with May, so his cousin will have to be the next best thing.
