Page 24 of Bona Fide

My intense gaze is on my best friend, Chase, as he orders a drink at the open bar, conversing with a few men who have gathered to say hello.

He wasn't supposed to be here tonight, told me he had to work, or I would've given Reagan the wish I know she wanted—not to fucking come here. She could have sent one of her assistants to manage and overlook everything.

My heart repeatedly slams in my chest as I watch him, yards away, throw his head back in laughter.

She can't see him.

He can't see her.

I can’t take anymore kicks to the nuts right now.

My body buzzes in warning as my karma saunters by to remind me that I should’ve never fallen in love with Reagan. She was never mine to have and keep. I was never supposed to be here, to feel this way, to know this human being.

But I’ll be fucking damned if I let her go so easily.

"If you want to leave the party, Miss Shelton," I vouch, not knowing a thing of what she just said to me. "You're more than welcome to do so."

She scoffs. "Been here for hours, why would I leave now?" My nostrils flare because she’d pick this moment to not want to go.

I inhale a deep breath and snap, "Because I want you to. The look on your face is fucking with my image, and I don't want you messing with my reputation."

I watch her eyes widen for a split second, then I release her because she's only going to rip herself out of my grasp anyways.

She’s used to my mouth, and I’ll fix this jack-off comment later, but right now she needs to go.

Taking a step away from me, I already KO'ed myself with my last remark. I don’t need her to react for me to feel anymore of an asshole right now.

But she cannot run into Chase.

My alter ego of pretending to be him is the only thing I have left to remain in good standings with Reagan, and I can't lose that right now. Not with Demi back in my fucking life and the next debate coming up—I can't.

She doesn't respond to my dismissal, looking stunned by the way I just casted her out as quickly as I wanted her to stay.

I want to apologize.

However, it'll just cause a fight, more talking, more of my wanting to pull her back into my arms, and us standing in the middle of this dance floor has to stop.

"You can go out the back exit, so I don't have to make excuses for why my party planner abandoned the function."

That's when her eyes constrict. I can tell that her mind is fighting off the idea of wanting to lay me out in front of everyone, but she won't. Not with what I threatened her with.

She doesn't wait for me to speak again, rounding my frame and heading in the opposite direction of Chase—thank fuck.

I'm paralyzed from the waist down, my stomach bunched so tightly that it's hard to breathe. It's challenging to think when I have to move and not cause any unwanted attention to myself.

My heart wants to chase after her and proclaim that not everything about my life is so black and white. That I’m disappointed in her for thinking that everything she and I have done was just to have a little bit of fun.

But she’s right. I never asked her to date me.

I never told her I was falling for her—I didn’t have time.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for attending the governor’s ball this evening," announces the DJ from over the speakers. "Tonight, we'd like to start off with a special request from the governor himself, Mr. Wade Lockwood."

An eruption of applause surrounds me, followed by beaming faces and everyone's eyes on me.

I usually don't feel anxious or out of place in public, but my nerves are shot. The woman that I would give everything for, I just shunned away like the kind of woman she claims I perceive her as.

"Enjoy the next dance," the DJ concludes. The song begins to play, and I remain frozen on the dance floor with everyone looking at me expectantly for my chosen music selection.

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