“Yeah—let her talk to her friend.”

If she is going to be mad, I might as well make it worth it.

He scoffs, shifting his body away from Gen’s. “What the fuck ever. She’s not even that ho—”

“I would consider your next words very carefully.” I tense as I step toward him, pushing Gen behind me.

“Jackson.” Gen’s hand is on my forearm within an instant, grounding me. She turns toward the jackass. “Just go.”

As he walks away, I am met with a scowl, a stark reminder that I clearly misstepped. “Jackson. What the hell?”

“What the hell, me? What the hell was that, Gen?”

“I was dancing?”

“With a piece of shit, mind you. You might as well have been getting pregnant in a crowded room.”

Is that a dramatic iteration of events? Absolutely, but I don’t care.

“Oh, give me a break. It was PG at best.” Gen huffs, her exacerbated response giving me pause. “Compared to the blonde bimbo who was ready to suck you off in the bathroom, at least.”

Even though I know what she is referring to was nothing but a lack of the correct perspective, I can’t help but smirk at her indignation. “Jealous, Gen?”

“Hardly.”

If this was a cartoon, I’m sure I would see steam coming out of her ears. Her brows narrow as she looks up at me. I don’t believe it is full-blown jealousy, she has made her intentions clear, but I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t warm my heart to know she still cares, even if she is disgusted by my actions at the moment.

“Guys!” Savannah’s voice cuts through the tension that is building around us.

Usually, I would be annoyed that she is stepping in, but at this point, I am particularly relieved. I’m convinced that Gen is two seconds from murder.

Savannah is out of breath as if she ran a marathon, but Wes’s smirk makes it clear that anything but running has her winded.

“What?” Gen is snappy toward Savannah, but at least her heat is off me.

“Okay, grouch.”

“I’m sorry. What, Savannah, my best friend, the most incredible woman on earth, what do you want?” The monotone in Gen’s inflection is so clear even Savannah would catch the sarcasm.

“You don’t have to be snotty about it, Gen. I just wanted to know if you guys wanted to get a bottle. The booth we requested opened up.”

An air of regret paints Gen’s expression. I don’t think she intended to be snappy with Savannah.

“Sure, sounds great, Sav.” The forced tone she uses is not lost on me, but it seems to be enough to ease Savannah from Gen’s previous quip.

As the hours go by, I notice Savannah and Gen steadily growing increasingly louder, the alcohol strumming through their veins. I’m feeling it too, but it hits them differently. To my understanding, Savannah doesn’t drink more than a few glasses of wine often, so it is hitting her quickly. When it comes to Gen, I am reminded that years can change a person, and I am not sure what her drinking habits are like now. All I know is that she is becoming less and less mad at me with every pour of the bottle of champagne.

“Let’s dance!” Gen jumps up, jutting out her hand in my direction. An unmistakable look of confusion is evident on my face.

“Me?”

My brows shoot up in an instant as she lets out a chuckle.

“Who else?”

At this moment, I realize that for what feels like the tenth time tonight, Wes and Savannah have wandered off, leaving Gen and me alone. The first few times it happened, I chalked it up to them being immersed in one another, but the more times it has happened, the more I think it is by design.

My gaze meets Gen’s as her glistening brown eyes peer down at me, awaiting my response to her question.