Page 21 of Nicky

Another song ended. The crowd erupted into cheers. My drink was half empty before I could respond, and Kyle hadn’t stopped looking at me like I was the juiciest piece of gossip he’d stumbled across in months.

“I hate you,” I muttered.

He laughed, clearly unaffected. “You love me. Now spill. Tell me about the hot doctor.”

“Did I just hear ‘hot doctor’?” Brianna’s voice cut through the conversation, catching me by surprise and making my heart leap into my throat.

She slipped into the booth, her cheeks flushed from dancing, and the others followed close behind, still buzzing with energy. Wyatt set a tray of sodas on the table and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “What’s this about a hot doctor?”

I groaned, sinking lower in my seat. “I never said he was hot.”

“Not denying it though,” Kyle muttered.

Wyatt grinned. “Oh, this just got interesting.”

Brianna clapped her hands together. “Alright, Nicholas. Start talking.”

I buried my face in my hands again, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I could say something,” Wyatt added, laughing when I glared at him. “He is hot… smoking hot. I saw him when I visited Grandpa a couple of days ago. Total DILF vibes.”

Faith choked on her drink, laughing so hard she nearly dropped her glass. “Wait, wait, wait. Are they trying to set you up with aDaddy?”

Heat flushed my face as all five of them dissolved into laughter. “First of all, no. Second of all,ew.”

Kyle slung an arm around my shoulders, grinning broadly. “Come on, Nicky. A Daddy might be exactly what you need. Someone to spoil you, keep you in line?—”

“I’m perfectly capable of keeping myself in line, thanks,” I snapped, shrugging him off. “I don’t need anyone hovering over me, telling me what to do.”

Brianna tilted her head, mock-serious. “But what if it’s less about telling you what to do and more about... taking care of you?”

I groaned again, louder this time. “You’re all insane. I like my independence, alright? I don’t need someone to ‘take care of me.’”

Faith winked. “You’d make an adorable boy, though.”

“Stop. Right now.” I drained the last of my stout, setting the empty glass on the table. “I am changing the subject before I have to hurt you all. Who’s coming to dance?”

“Running away from your feelings already?” Kyle teased, but I didn’t stick around to answer. I pushed through the crowdtoward the dance floor, needing to lose myself in the music before their jokes burrowed too deep.

The beat throbbed, drowning out the buzz of conversation. I let the music carry me, swaying and moving until the tension in my chest began to ease. A few strangers tried to dance close, and I humored them for a while, but it felt hollow. Forced.

My friends would say I was overthinking, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that dancing with anyone else right now wasn’t what I wanted.

Who was I kidding? I knew exactly what—or who—I wanted. And it pissed me off.

By the time the night ended, my legs were sore, my shirt clung to my back, and I was more tangled up than when I arrived. All the noise and laughter had done nothing to quiet the storm in my head.

When I got home, the house felt too quiet. Too empty. The kind of silence that settled in my bones and refused to let go. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer.

But it didn’t.

All I could see was Markus. That sharp jawline, the faint stubble that framed his mouth, the way his smile made his eyes crinkle just enough to feel like he really saw you. My chest tightened as the image refused to leave.

With a frustrated groan, I shoved my hand under my waistband, like this was just another night and not one where my thoughts were betraying me. It didn’t mean anything, I told myself. Just a release, a way to blow off steam.

But it wasn’t just physical.

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