Page 87 of Ignition

She swallowed, and darkness seeped into her expression, before she chased it away with a too-bright smile, took a rather large gulp, and glanced his way again.

“They turned out a disaster, but we had fun. He was… bearable.” She chuckled a little longer than the joke warranted.

My frown spelled out my scepticism for me.

“I’m not defending him, I swear,” she blurted out, raising her hands in innocence.

I arched a brow at her. “Aren’t you?”

“I mean… I guess? Don’t get me wrong, I still want to smack him sometimes…”

She grinned, as if remembering something.

“But then he goes and does a half-decent thing and I’m like… wait.”

She rambled on, and my ears tuned it out as white-hot indignation roiled inside me.

“—and then he must have threatened them.”

My mind screeched to a halt, snagging on the shape of something important I couldn’t quite make out.

“What?”

“Yeah, he interrogated me about it. Practically growled at me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“About what?”

“The bullying!” She huffed, indignant I hadn’t been paying attention, before she bulldozed on, “He came in all a storm—”

Her eyes pinged open, whites standing out stark, and her hand flew to her mouth, as if it could smother what she’d let spill.

Wait…

What?

That was him?

I stared at her, then through her, feeling like I needed to grip something, like the world had tilted and slipped from beneath my feet.

“No, I meant—” she squeaked, hands spelling out frantic and incoherent explanations, but it was too late.

With shaking fingers, I set my glass down and refocused on her face, mouth hanging open.

I couldn’t remember when I’d last blinked.

“Please, don’t tell him I told you. He’s gonna kill me.”

She swallowed, hard, and gave me the puppy-dog eyes, but even without the plea, I wasn’t sure I’d ever bring it up with him. I wouldn’t know how. My mind scrambled and twisted into knots, unable to wrap around it, except the timing fit a little too well.

I had no idea when I’d returned to the dance floor.

The music sounded off-kilter and my dress scratched and itched all over. The decorations blurred at the edges of my vision, but I wasn’t sure it was the alcohol or something else entirely.

Liam’s frown deepened the more his jokes and grins hit a wall, and Pri kept nervously messing with her curls, spearing me frightened glances, as if I’d grab a microphone and broadcast to the entire world she’d spilled a secret she wasn’t supposed to.

The clock counted down, inching closer to midnight, and still, my limbs felt like I was underwater. I would’ve retreated or taken a break, but I hadn’t got to enjoy the last party, and I’d worked hard with Pri on this.

I deserved it.