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Nicholas getting a promotion had to have been one of the best nights of his life, but I couldn’t bring myself to be happy for him. I’d tried my best to plaster on a smile throughout the rest of the event, being as charming and lovely as ever, joking around with Tyler and even cracking some jokes with George, too. Hell, I’d never felt more like I belonged in Nicholas’ inner circle, with nearly every guy at the station knowing my name by the end of the party, Nicholas swiftly introducing me as they came up to our table to offer him congratulations and best wishes.

At a certain point I’d wanted to make a quip about feeling like some sort of famous politician’s other half, the slight rush of power at being by Nicholas’ side as he ascended, how much nicer everyone was probably being to me just because he’d had his arm around me all evening. I was a trophy partner, the perfect accessory to someone in their shining moment of success…

But the quip fell from my lips before I ever had a chance to speak it.

Because it wasn’t true. I wasn’t Nicholas’ other half. I wasn’t a trophy partner.

I wasn’t even his perfect accessory.

I was his practical choice and it didn’t matter how comfortable he was showing me off to the other guys. It didn’t matter how easy it felt being by his side, how happy I was to be pressed up against him throughout the whole night. I didn’t belong to Nicholas because he’d never asked and he never would. Belonging to each other wasn’t even on the agenda?—

Which meant that I needed to get the fuck over it and move the fuck on.

“That… was much too much,” Nicholas chuckled as he reached for my hand in the near empty parking lot. “I really wasn’t expecting all of that tonight.”

“What? You didn’t like being the belle of the ball?” I joked. “Or should I say the big man on campus?”

“I don’t know about all of that.” Nicholas shook his head. “I’m not too good about being the center of attention.”

“You’ll get used to it. I’m sure whenever a fire is big enough to make the news, journalists will be knocking down your door. All the cameras in your face will be annoying, at first, before they become addictive. Oh, and don’t forget the lucrative talk show circuit?—”

“Yeah. No. Never going to happen.” Nicholas chuckled again. “I don’t think I’m going to suddenly start liking being around people any more than I do right now.”

“You like being around me, though,” I said, insecurity bubbling up my throat.

“Of course, I like being around you,” Nicholas said, before gently kissing the side of my face. “You’re one of the few people I can stand being around, especially with how much time we’ve been spending together.”

“Do you think the guys like being around me, too?”

“Parker, are you serious?” Nicholas playfully scoffed. “You were amazing back there. Not just with arranging the party, just everything. Everyone loves you.”

Everyone loves you.

I winced away from the phrase, not sure why it’d landed so harshly against my chest. Desperate to shift the feeling away from me, I quickly changed the subject.

“So? Any plans for the afterparty?”

“The afterparty?”

“Yeah, the one for you and me.” I smirked, before leaning against the hood of Nicholas’ truck. “What were you thinking we should do after this?”

“Well…”

“Well?”

“I was thinking that we could go back to my place,” Nicholas said, his voice growly and low.

“And then?”

“And then, we could try a few of those leftover beers I had the guys throw in the back.” He flashed me a wicked grin. “I remember you saying you weren’t much of a beer fan and I intend to prove you wrong. As a connoisseur of sorts, I’m pretty sure I can find something you’ll like.”

“Oh, Nicholas. Poor, sweet Nicholas.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Do you really think you’re the first person who’s tried to cure me of my not-liking-beer-itis? I’ve had plenty of guys try before?—”

“Yeah, but they don’t know you like I do.” He smiled again.

And the pressure against my chest returned with full force. I copied his expression, offering him a smile, too, even though smiling was the last thing I felt like doing.

“Sounds like a plan, then,” I said, hoping he couldn’t see through the fake smile on my lips. “Let’s go back to your place and drink some nasty beer.”

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