you’re leaving with me?
are you sure of that?
“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered under my breath, scanning the crowd from the balcony. My eyes locked on him leaning against the wall downstairs, frowning. Someone stood close, talking to him. I shifted for a better view and froze.
Chris.
Of course, it was Chris—with his damn flirty smile and hand resting lightly on Ethan’s back. My jaw clenched as I called Henry, but he didn’t pick up. Muttering curses under my breath, I made my way down toward them.
Chris was speaking close to Ethan’s ear, his smug grin firmly in place. Ethan spotted me first, his expression stormy. I ignored the knot in my chest and walked straight to them, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.
He turned to me. “You’re welcome,” Chris murmured in my ear, his tone dripping satisfaction, before turning and sauntering off.
Ethan, however, was glaring at me, his jaw tight.
“I’m sorry. Can we go upstairs?” I said, moving as close as I could without attracting attention.
Ethan’s jaw clenched tighter, and he turned away from me.
“We can’t have this conversation in the middle of a fucking club, Ethan. Please, come upstairs.”
He didn’t answer but finally started walking toward the stairs. Relief flooded me as I followed close behind, keeping my head down to avoid drawing attention.
But instead of going into the office, Ethan stopped in the hall. He crossed his arms, his body rigid, and looked at me expectantly.
“Office,” I said firmly.
He shook his head. “Why was he here?”
“He comes here sometimes,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “He knows he can get in with a quick call. He likes that.”
“He came looking for you,” Ethan pressed.
“So what if he did? I’m not leaving withhim. He asked, and I said no. End of story.”
“You were flirting with him. I know what that looks like. Calling him ‘babe’?” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the hurt beneath the anger.
I took a deep breath, reining in my frustration. “I was being polite. I said no. What more do you want from me?” His anger started bleeding from his face. “I’m not seeing anybody else per your request. I can’t talk to them either?”
Ethan uncrossed his arms. Before he could respond, a burst of laughter interrupted us. Henry and Chris walked past the hallway, and Chris spotted us. Henry tried to keep walking, but Chris, ever the provocateur, made him stop.
“Kiss me.”
I turned to Ethan, alarmed. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
“Kiss me,” he repeated, his jaw set like a challenge.
“Ethan, anyone could walk by. Even if they don’t, I can’t be seen kissing you—not in front of Chris, not here. What if he tells someone?” I tried to reason, but he shook his head stubbornly.
“I don’t fucking care. You trusted him enough to fuck him for four years. I bet he won’t tell. Kiss me.”
“I can’t,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Then I can’t leave with you tonight,” he said simply, shrugging as if the decision were final.
“What?” My heart sank, my voice rising involuntarily.
“And I probably can’t go on the trip, either,” he added, his tone dripping sarcasm. “Too bad—I know you were set on getting your hands on me. But, hey, at least your fuck buddy’s here, ready to jump in.”