“You thought wrong. Eli’s mine. Walk away.”
Her eyes widened, and she finally hurried off.
I’d probably been too mean, but I wasn’t in the mood for kindness. It had been a long, uncomfortable day.
“That was fucking hot,” Eli said.
My face warmed.
I ignored my body’s reaction, rolling my eyes and focusing back on the dance floor. August and Elodie still looked ridiculously happy together.
“Peace offering accepted, Spaghetti. I will never insult your cooking skills again,” he added.
“Great.” My voice was flat.
He was silent for a moment before he finally asked, “Did it offend you when I complimented you?”
The question came out sort of uncomfortable.
Maybe even a little awkward.
I liked that. Not because he was uncertain, but because it humanized him a bit.
“No. I’m hard to offend,” I said.
It was a lie.
I was easily offended, I was just good at hiding it when I was.
“Alright.” He took another bite. “What should I give you as a peace offering?”
“I don’t need one. We’re pleasant to each other now.”
“Doesn’t feel like it to me.”
I took in a slow breath, then emptied my lungs. “Fine. Help me find a guy to leave the party with, and we’ll be even. I don’t want to go home alone tonight.”
Eli was silent for a moment.
A long moment.
A few long moments.
When I finally looked back at him, his gaze was scanning the crowd almost… predatorily.
“You’re finding me a date?”
“Mmhm.” There was spaghetti in his mouth again.
As much as I was frustrated with him, I was still stupidly proud that he liked my pasta.
“There’s a dark-haired guy off to my right. He looks human. I haven’t seen him with anyone, and he’s not wearing a ring,” I said.
Eli stiffened. “Not him.”
“Why not?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Bad vibes.”