Aflame (Fall Away #4)(32)

“She hit me!” he snarled.

I inched into his space, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Better her than me,” I threatened.

The dude paused, probably weighing his options, before he turned around and walked his ass off the dance floor. I let out a breath, just as aggravated with Pasha as I was with him. She did this a lot. Letting some guy think they had a chance, only to beg off when she realized she didn’t want them after all. She needed to stop trying to be someone she wasn’t.

I turned around. “Are you okay?” I asked, but she wasn’t looking at me. Chewing her bottom lip, she shook her head.

“I’m gay, aren’t I?” she murmured, as if just realizing it.

I nodded, snorting. “I know.”

Her head shot up, and her eyes narrowed in surprise. She actually thought no one suspected.

“My father hates me,” she sulked. “Now he’s going to hate me more.”

I hooked an arm around her neck and led her off the dance floor. “You know the great thing about family?” I mused. “They weren’t your choice, so you’re not responsible. The great thing about friends is that you can choose them.”

And I slid my foot around the leg of a wooden chair at Madoc’s table and yanked it out, guiding Pasha down into it.

“Guys, you remember Pasha, right?” I jerked my chin to my friends, the flush of heat on the right side of my face not going unnoticed as I felt Tate’s eyes on me.

“Hey,” murmurs sounded around the table.

I stood, holding the back of my assistant’s chair, as Fallon stood up and grabbed a bottle of beer out of their bucket. She plucked off the cap and set it in front of Pasha.

I gave Fallon a nod of thanks, knowing that my friends were the best thing I could give Pasha right now.

My eyes drifted to Tate, and even though her gaze was defiantly trained on an empty space across the table, I knew I was the only thing she was aware of.

Her loose waves were draped over one shoulder, blanketing her breast, and she sat still and quiet, as if she were expecting me to do or say something.

I dropped my eyes to Ben’s hand rubbing the inside of her thigh, and then noticed that she, too, had her hand on his leg.

Steeling my jaw, I turned around to make my way back across the dance floor when Madoc called out. “Dude, just sit here,” he prompted. “Come on.”

I laughed at all the eyes on me. “I don’t think so,” I said, and then added, “Tate’s uncomfortable.”

Her narrowed eyes instantly pinned me. “We share the same friends, Jared. I can handle it.”

I cocked my head, amusement warming my skin. “Really?” I challenged. “Your breathing is shallow. Your fists are clenched. You’ll hardly look at me,” I assessed, raking my eyes down her body. “And you didn’t have your hand on him”—I arched a brow at Ben—“until I walked over here.”

I smirked, reveling in the silence that greeted me. “You’re right,” I taunted. “You’re not uncomfortable. You’re nervous.”

I knew I was right. I knew that if I felt her cheeks, they’d be warm, and if I put my hand over her heart, it would be racing.

But as much as I was satisfied that I’d nailed her mood, I couldn’t help but wonder why she wasn’t bounding out of the chair and hitting me.

Not that Tate was exceedingly violent, but she’d at least be shouting at me.

Instead, the corner of her full pink lips curled into a sinister grin as she stood up and held me entranced with her stormy eyes.

She arched a brow, looking amused. “Nervous?” she repeated. “I’m actually entertained that you think you occupy more than a bare minimum of my memory, Jared. That’s how easily forgettable you were.” She inched closer to me, stalking nearer with her calm, even steps. “And I’m actually quite entertained when I look back and think about how much I deluded myself about you.”

Her condescending tone made me grit my teeth. A f*cking memory?

I was all of her memories.

“The only way you can win an argument is by throwing a fist,” she taunted. “Your antisocial behavior bored me out of my mind, and your lack of conversational skills in public was embarrassing, to say the least.”

What the f*ck?

My hot gaze zeroed in on her, and I slowly lifted my chin as anger swarmed through my chest.

I closed the distance with a last step and looked down at her, inhaling her soft scent. I bared my teeth, letting my buried temper seep out. “You liked my conversational skills when we were alone well enough,” I pointed out, continuing as I enunciated every word. “In the car, on top of the car, in my shower, in your bed”—I got in her face, growling—“on nearly every floor in nearly every room of your house, you loved my conversational skills then.”

I registered a snort behind Tate, and her furious wide eyes turned on Juliet.

Her friend looked up, her face falling at Tate’s glare. Madoc’s and Jax’s eyes were focused on the ground, as they wisely bit back their amusement.

Ben appeared at Tate’s side, taking her hand and not sparing me a glance. “Let’s go,” he said firmly.

Tate looked at me with fury warming her face and nodded. “Absolutely.”

But as she let Ben lead her away, she stopped and leaned in, whispering for only me to hear. “You were good for some things,” she remarked. “Just not for others.”