Page 17 of Resist

I smile and talk with them, never going too deep. I joke and laugh, letting Strike and Dash lead the conversation until Dash leans forward. “Sorry, lovers, we are out celebrating tonight. It’s a band night, you understand?”

They wander away and leave us in peace, and I sip my beer as I tap my foot to the music until Ryker suddenly appears.

“Sorry about that.” He offers us a grin and slides onto the couch next to me, sitting so close our thighs touch despite there being room on the other side.

“Managed to escape the one-night stand?” Dash jokes.

I feel Strike’s eyes on me, but I ignore him as I sip my beer. It doesn’t hurt me anymore. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

“Something like that,” Ryker mutters, and then he leans into me. “Did you get me a drink?”

“Bar’s there, get your own,” I grumble, and then I lean into Strike. “Did you see that Olly is over there, from Scar Head?”

“I did. Is it weird if we fanboy and go over?” Strike laughs, leaning into me and giving me the out I need from Ry. I feel his eyes on me, but I ignore him. I’m not his slave, nor his boy. I’m his bandmate, and at this point, I’m barely that. He made it this way, so he has to live with it.

“Oh, I met him the other night. Want me to introduce you?” Ryker offers hopefully, butting in. Strike and I share a look, and I sit back and nurse my beer. Ry seems to slump. “I can. He’s really nice.”

“It’s okay,” Strike replies. “I’m sure we’ll meet him later.”

“Okay.” Ry slumps further, looking at us before perking up. “You guys want another drink?”

“Sure,” Dash answers, and Ry hops up, grinning at us. “Strike? Fox?”

“I’m good,” I murmur, scanning the crowd.

“I’m okay, thanks,” Strike tells him.

I feel Ry staring, but then he’s gone, and I take another sip of my beer. He returns quickly and sits right next to me again, sipping some fruity cocktail. “Good club, right?” He’s trying too hard, and I respect that. We’ve all been distant recently, so I relax a little and try to be his friend.

As the night goes on, though, he gets bolder. He leans into me, touches me, and teases me. It could be friendly banter, but when you’re in love with someone, it’s hard not to take things like that to heart.

Does he even realize how much it hurts every time he turns that wide grin on me and touches my arm?

“Dance with me?” he pleads abruptly. It’s something we did all the time before.

“No, I’m okay,” I reply and see the shock in his eyes as the rejection sets in. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t dance with his hands all over me and mine all over him like nothing is different between us. It would be crossing the line he drew, and I won’t do that again.

I’ve been burnt enough.

“Please, Foxy?” he implores. “We can burn it up like old times?—”

“I’m good,” I interrupt. I don’t need a trip down memory lane, especially not tonight when I’m already on edge. If I danced with him, I’d end up taking it too far.

He looks so crestfallen, I have to avert my eyes, and Dash laughs awkwardly. “How about I dance with you?”

“Sure,” Ry agrees, but he looks back at me as they walk to the dance floor.

“You did the right thing,” Strike murmurs.

“I know.” I down my drink. “I’m going to get another.” I leave Strike there, but by the time I’m halfway to the bar, he’s surrounded by others again. My eyes find Dash and Ry as they dance and laugh on the floor before I focus on the bar and lean against the sticky top.

Someone moves to my right, waiting to order as well. I place mine and wait. When my beer appears, I grab it just as someone backs into me on my left. My beer tips, falling all over the person on my right.

“Shit, sorry.” I grab some napkins and wipe the man’s arm. He chuckles, the warm sound making my head jerk up and my eyes widen.

Shit. He’s fucking pretty.

“Thank you.”

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