Page 53 of Shared By my Ex's Best Friends
I’m not the only one who’s spotted them.
Jake slides in from the left, smooth and quiet, and plants himself between them with a smile that’s sharp enough to draw blood. His shoulder bumps into Nick’s with intention.
“Hey, buddy,” he says lightly, but there’s an edge under the charm. “Think you’ve had enough for tonight.”
Liam appears right behind him. He clamps a hand down on Nick’s shoulder—firm, final. “Let’s get some air.”
Nick protests, but it’s weak. More performative than sincere. He’s already being guided out, half-herded, half-hauled. Jake and Liam don’t look back once.
Maya stands frozen for a moment. Still smiling, but it’s all wrong—too thin, too polite. Her eyes follow the door, and then they flick to mine.
I’m beside her before I can think twice.
“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low. Just for her.
She nods, but it’s the kind of nod people give when they’re trying not to break down in front of strangers. It’s automatic. A defense. Her gaze darts back to the door like she’s still on high alert, then returns to me with a soft exhale.
“Come on,” I say, dipping my head closer. “Let’s get out of here. Just for a minute.”
She doesn’t argue.
We slip out the side door and into the night.
The air is cooler than I expected—cool enough to raise goosebumps along my arms. The scent of roses drifts lazily from the garden beds, mingling with the earthy green of fresh-cut grass. Crickets chirp somewhere in the darkness, and the low thump of music from inside is muffled behind the closed door.
We follow the stone path away from the glowing windows, toward the quieter edge of the venue grounds where ivy climbs up a crumbling brick wall and the string lights fade into shadows.
Maya wraps her arms around herself, shoulders still tense. “I’m fine,” she says, and I can hear the way her voice strains to make it sound true.
“I know,” I say gently, watching her. “But you don’t have to be.”
She stops walking and turns to face me. Her eyes find mine, shining in the soft silver of the moonlight. “You always do that.”
I blink. “Do what?”
“See through me.”
My throat tightens. I take a step close enough that I can see the way the wind brushes a few strands of hair across her cheek. “You never really try to hide. Not with me. That’s what makes it so easy.”
Her breath catches—a slight, beautiful hitch in her chest. She looks away for half a second, like she’s trying to hold something in.
“I didn’t like him disrespecting you,” I admit.
Her brows knit, and she tilts her head slightly as she looks back up at me.
“Nick,” I clarify. “Back there. I know I don’t have a right to be mad, but—” I look away, jaw tight. “It pissed me off. More than I expected.”
There’s a pause, and then her voice comes, quiet but firm. “I didn’t like it either.”
My eyes snap back to hers. Her tone isn’t defensive. It’s vulnerable. Honest.
She takes a slow step toward me. I can see the faint shimmer of gloss still clinging to her bottom lip, the delicate curve of her collarbone, the pulse fluttering beneath the skin of her neck.
My hand lifts before I can stop it, my thumb brushing that lip—the one I’ve been staring at all night.
But she’s already moving.
She leans in and her mouth finds mine—soft and searching, at first. Her lips are warm, pliant, tasting faintly of wine and something sweeter, something unmistakablyher.
