Page 40 of The Backup

Jacklyn raises an eyebrow at me as we step onto the sidewalk. “Totally neutral.”

The rest of our sorority sisters chatter excitedly as we ascend the grand steps of the Sigma house. The double doors are propped open, revealing an interior that looks straight out of a movie. A giant chandelier sparkles overhead, casting golden light across the wide foyer, where a makeshift speakeasy-style bar has been set up. Waitstaff in suspenders and bow ties pass out drinks on silver trays, and the scent of champagne and expensive cologne fills the air.

The main party room is even more extravagant. The furniture has been cleared out, leaving an enormous dance floor framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, their curtains drawn back to showcase the city lights. A full jazz band is set up in the corner, complete with a crooner who sounds like he stepped straight out of the 1920s. His smooth voice flows through the room, singing ‘It Happened in Monterey,’ as couples swirl across the floor in time with the music.

“Wow,” Jacklyn says, her eyes wide as she takes it all in. “I didn’t think Sigma could pull off classy, but this is…impressive.”

I nod, my gaze sweeping the room. “Over-the-top, but yeah.”

As I take a step forward, my eyes land on him. Asher.

He’s standing near the far side of the room, one hand casually resting on the back of a chair, but everything about him is far from casual. He’s wearing a sleek black tuxedo, the kind that fits so perfectly it might as well have been made for him.His usually tousled hair is combed back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw and the striking intensity of his eyes. He’s never looked more handsome—or more untouchable.

And he’s brooding. Of course he is. His expression is unreadable, his lips set in a firm line as he watches the dancers. My stomach twists, but I force myself to look away.

Jacklyn follows my gaze. “You sure Scott’s your best option tonight?”

Before I can respond, Scott steps in, offering me his arm. “Care to dance?”

I glance back at Asher briefly, but he doesn’t look over. “Sure,” I say, slipping my arm through Scott’s and letting him lead me to the dance floor.

The band transitions into another song, a lively swing number that gets the crowd moving. Scott tries to match the rhythm, his movements clunky and a little too enthusiastic, but I manage to keep up, plastering on a polite smile.

As we spin, I catch a flash of black tuxedo out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head slightly, and there he is. Asher. He’s on the dance floor now, too, with some blonde girl in a glittering gold dress. She’s laughing as he twirls her, but his gaze isn’t on her. It’s on me.

Our eyes lock for a split second, and my breath catches. He looks away quickly, but the moment lingers, buzzing in the space between us like static.

Scott fumbles a step, and I refocus on him, offering a reassuring smile. “You’re doing great,” I say, though my attention is already drifting back to Asher.

He spins his partner again, his movements smooth and effortless, but I can tell his heart isn’t in it. His jaw tightens slightly, and his eyes flick back to me, just for a second.

The song ends, and Scott claps enthusiastically. “That was fun! Want to go again?”

I hesitate, glancing across the room. Asher is no longer on the dance floor. Instead, he’s leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

“I, uh, need a drink,” I say, slipping away from Scott before he can argue.

As I weave through the crowd, I can feel Asher’s gaze following me, heavy and unwavering.

The night suddenly feels like a dangerous balancing act, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep from falling.

thirteen

. . .

Asher

The whiskey’snot doing the job, so I’m just staring into the crowd, trying to decide if I need another. My eyes keep drifting back to Sloane, who’s still dancing with Suspenders like she’s having the time of her life.

I glance away before my mood tanks any further, only to find Joe heading straight for me. Of course. Just what I need tonight.

“Asher,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder like we’re best friends. “Hell of a game today.”

“Joe,” I reply, keeping my voice even.

He leans against the bar, ordering a drink before turning back to me, his grin too wide to be genuine. “Tough break out there. I know how it feels, man. I’ve been there. All that pressure? It’s a lot.”

I don’t respond, sipping my drink instead.

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