Page 39 of Pucking Dirty

"Shit," he mumbles, hopping up as laughter ripples through our group. She's been giving him hell all night. I kind of like her for it. He needs someone willing to call him on his shit.

"Stop antagonizing her, man," Micah says. "You're only making it worse for yourself."

"Fucking clearly," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes off after her, looking stressed in a way he never has before.

"I don't know why the fuck he hired her," Micah mutters. "He knew she hated him, but he just can't leave shit alone."

"Yeah, well, you don't do the shit I walked in on them doing in the locker room today with someone you hate," Diego snorts.

Everyone turns wide eyes on him.

"They were fucking?"

"All I'm saying is that isn't hate, motherfuckers. That's something else." He drains his beer, standing up. "I'm out. See you in the morning."

"Us too." Nash places his hand on the small of my back, turning me toward the door.

"Wait. Where is Alice?"

"Uh…she left an hour ago," Micah says, an odd expression on his face.

"An hour ago?" Nash asks.

"Yep."

"Alone?"

"Nope."

"Jesus Christ," Nash mutters, shaking his head.

"What? Who did she leave with?"

Everyone avoids looking at me.

Nash presses his lips close to my ear. "She left with River."

"Oh." My nose scrunches. "Oh. Well, good for her, I guess." It's not a choice I'd make, but I am not going to judge her for making a different choice. Who she chooses to take to bed is not my business.

Micah laughs quietly.

"Come on," Nash murmurs, leading me toward the door.

As soon as we're outside, I lean my head against his shoulder, peering up at him. "Thank you," I say softly.

He glances down at me. "For what?"

"For tonight. For bringing me."

"You're part of the organization too, Emilia. You belonged at that table just as much as everyone else there."

"I know. I just…" I shrug, not sure how to explain how much I needed tonight. How much I needed a night to just be a normal couple doing normal couple things without worrying about my dad or any of that. "Thank you."

He turns me toward him, cupping my cheek. "You don't owe me thanks, princess," he murmurs. "As soon as your dad knows about us, we'll be doing shit like this a whole lot more often."

"I tried to tell him this morning," I whisper. "I asked him if he regretted giving up hockey for me."

"And?" Nash asks.

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