Page 42 of The Backup

I laugh under my breath, shaking my head. She’s right, but I’m not ready to back down. Not yet.

Me: Fine. You want to be my dirty little secret? Meet me in my room in twenty. To talk.

She doesn’t respond right away, so I push further:

Me: I’ll go now so it doesn’t look like you’re following me.

I glance up, meeting her eyes one last time, and I see it—hesitation, frustration, and something else entirely. She shakes her head subtly, like she’s telling me no, but the way she grips her phone says otherwise.

Without another word, I down the rest of my drink and leave the room, weaving through the crowd toward the stairs. My heart’s pounding, and I can’t tell if it’s from the whiskey or the sheer recklessness of what I just said.

Twenty minutes. Let’s see if she shows up.

fourteen

. . .

Sloane

I stareat the message on my phone, the words practically burning into the screen.

Fine. You want to be my dirty little secret? Meet me in my room in twenty. I’ll go now so it doesn’t look like you’re following me.

I lock the screen quickly, shoving the phone back into my clutch before anyone notices. My heart is racing, and my head feels like it’s spinning. He can’t be serious.

“Earth to Sloane,” Jacklyn says, nudging me with her shoulder. “You’ve been weirdly quiet since you stopped dancing with Scott.”

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, reaching for my drink.

“Uh-huh,” she says, unconvinced.

Across the room, the band strikes up a sultry jazz number, the crooner’s voice low and smooth as the crowd sways in time. Brian appears beside us with a tray of drinks, grinning.

“Who needs refills?” he asks, setting the tray down.

“Finally,” Jacklyn says, snatching one of the glasses. “I thought you got lost.”

“I was being a gentleman,” Brian replies. “Plus, you try getting through that crowd with this many drinks and see how fast you are.”

They banter back and forth, and I force myself to smile, pretending I’m part of the conversation. But my mind keeps drifting—to him.

Asher.

I can feel him, even though he’s not in the room anymore. The way he looked at me from across the dance floor, like I was the only person here who mattered. The way his texts still linger in my head, daring me to throw caution out the window.

“You’re too quiet,” Jacklyn says, narrowing her eyes at me. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“Liar,” she replies, sipping her drink. “You’ve been distracted all night. Is this about Scott? Because if you’re feeling bad for ditching him, don’t. He’s fine. Probably over there talking about—what does he like again? Marketing trends?”

“Leave Scott alone,” I mutter, but Jacklyn’s not wrong.

Brian clinks his glass against mine, smiling. “Cheer up, Sloane. This is a party.”

“I’m cheerful,” I lie, taking a sip.

Jacklyn and Brian continue chatting, their voices blending into the buzz of the party around us. I should be having fun. This is what I wanted—to blend in, to dispel the rumors, to keep things uncomplicated. But it’s not working.

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