Page 47 of One Last Encore

A small smile tugged at the corners of Ingrid's lips, appreciating Eden's willingness to play along. This is why she was her best friend. Eden was always ready to dive headfirst into any situation, no questions asked.

Ingrid pivoted in her stilettos, pressing back into Eden’s space as the bass throbbed beneath them. Their movements synced effortlessly, Ingrid’s hips swaying to the beat, her bodyresponding instinctively. But her mind buzzed with awareness of him, of how desperately she didn’t want him to stop watching.

"Wow, you look hot as hell," Eden said, smirking as she looked at Ingrid’s devil costume. "No pun intended." She gave Ingrid an approving once-over, then added, "Keep going. I think Beck’s about to have a conniption."

The sound of his name sent a jolt through Ingrid’s chest. She risked a glance toward the bar, and her breath caught.

Beck stood stiffly, empty glass dangling from his fingers, knuckles faintly white. His jaw tensed, the muscle ticking as his dark gaze stayed locked on her. She could feel his gaze like fingertips skimming skin, hot enough to scald.

Heat bloomed low in her belly, molten and heady. She didn’t look away. Let him watch. Let him see exactly what he was missing. She let the beat take her, let it curl her spine and tilt her hips in a rhythm that was pure sin, the kind that wasn’t meant for polite company.

Then he moved.

Beck set his glass down like he was declaring war. He pushed off the bar, leaving the blonde beside him mid-sentence. She said something, probably something sultry and ego-stroking but Beck didn’t even blink in her direction. He was coming straight for her.What a good boy.

Until a shaggy-haired guy materialized out of nowhere, clamping a hand over Beck’s shoulder and yelling something over the music. He looked vaguely familiar to her.

Ingrid had no idea who he was, but she immediately disliked him. Read the room, man. This was a moment.

Beck barely acknowledged the guy, his eyes locked on hers, as if willing her not to disappear.

He murmured something quick, his attention never wavering, and whatever he said made the shaggy-haired man flick a glance her way. A knowing glance.

Then, after a pause, the guy sighed, nodded, and let himself be pulled away–though not before shooting her a look. A promise, maybe. Or an apology.

Next to her, Eden snorted, leaning in. "Talk about a cliterference."

Ingrid blinked. "A what?"

Eden gestured toward where Beck had disappeared. "Cliterference. The female equivalent of a cock block."

She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. But whatever. Fine. She wasn’t here for him. She was here to have fun. So she did exactly that–rolling her hips, losing herself in the beat, pretending she didn’t care.

Except… Her mind kept circling back.

Maybe he was leaving.

Maybe he was going back to that girl in the sparkly dress.

Maybe she imagined that look.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Then the music cut out. A low hum of feedback crackled through the speakers, followed by the deep thrum of a guitar through an amp. The energy in the room shifted instantly, excitement rippling through the crowd like an electric current.

Ingrid turned toward the stage, rising onto her toes to see past the bodies. Beck sat behind the kit, head down, idly twirling a drumstick.

She clocked the shaggy-haired man from earlier. He was the bassist in The Defectors with Beck. He flicked his gaze between her and Beck before he leaned into the mic.

"Alright, who wants to keep our drummer company tonight?"

The crowd erupted. What the hell did that mean?

Ingrid barely had a second to process before she saw her. Sparkly Dress Girl. Bouncing on the balls of her feet like a sugar-high toddler, arms flailing like she was summoning a rescue chopper.

The bassist grinned, scanning the crowd, his gaze flicking over Ingrid for a fraction of a second before he pointed right at Sparkly Dress Girl.

Heat surged up Ingrid’s spine, a cocktail of irritation and something even worse.What, did she need sequins?

---