The heavy thumping bass reverberates through the walls and my skull. It's a feeling that normally would make me seek out a quiet corner to people watch and laugh at everyone, but today, I relish it.

Because with the thumping music in my head it's easier to forget everything—with my mum, the game, and worst of all, my emerging feelings for a certain brown-eyed heartbreaker. But he is still making it hard to forget with his hand in mine as he navigates us through the sea of people.

We stop to say hi to a group with some of our friends, Haz, and a few of the football team, all of whom make it a point to stare at me like a piece of meat. I notice Tom clench his jaw. I brush it aside assuming it's nothing more than my throbbing head playing tricks.

Although, when one—Chris, I think—lets his gaze linger much longer than necessary as he sips something from his plastic cup. A split second after, I feel an arm wrap around my waist. My eyes find Tom, who is currently glaring at Chris in utter disdain.

I can't fight back the flush that threatens to tint my cheeks or the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips. Harrison gives me a look over the rim of his cup, clearly noticing the gesture and my reaction. He quirks an eyebrow, and it confirms that he knows another one of my secrets.

Tom keeps his arm wrapped around my waist as he holds me close to him. And I would be a complete liar if I said I didn't actually enjoy the contact. It sends my heart into a flurry, especially when he meets my eyes with that tender look he's gotten lately.

I almost want to say the words that would break me. Those three simple words with the power to kill. They rest on the tip of my tongue. But I can't. If I say those words—if I admit to what I might be feeling for Tom, there'll be no undoing it or mending that could fix me.

The words fall quiet underneath the doting, lecturing voice of my mother. It's the usual lecture. Stand up straight, lean into him, make yourself a worthy trophy for him to display. My stomach churns at the thought of her ideals to be nothing more than an item to be flaunted and displayed for someone. It sends me immediately looking for a way out or distraction.

So, I do what I do best. I play the game.

I hold them back and unwrap myself from Tom's grip. He gives me a curious look, and I move closer to his ear so he can actually hear me. "I wanna dance. You wanna come?" I give him a hopeful grin with a tint of mischief. He visibly swallows as he stares at me with wide eyes.

Once he gives me a frantic nod, I smirk and kiss the edge of his lips before sauntering off—knowing full well that ninety percent of the guys are watching me walk away and slapping Tom on the back for 'landing' me. It makes me feel powerful—in control again—but simultaneously nauseated. It's an odd feeling in combination with the chaos and turmoil.

I weave my way through the tangle of people, and I don't need to look back to know Tom is close behind me. We make it to the living room where the furniture is pushed back and everyone is moving to a smoother beat then when we entered. The thumping of the music settles into my bones, and I turn to Tom with a smile as I start to dance.

In a way, it's freeing. I let myself unwind and hands drift in the air as if to absorb every vibration of the now enjoyable music. The rhythm starts to echo in my muscles and moves my body in time with it. Hips sway to the beat underneath Tom's hands, and one quick glance at him shows that he's clearly unsure of what to do at my carefree state.

I let out a genuine laugh as I grab his hands and get him to dance. It takes him a moment to overcome his shock, but when he does everything changes. His hands come to rest gently on my hips as we move together. It surprises me how natural it feels, and what's even more surprising is Tom's lack of usual charisma. Right now, he's not a boy trying to get into my pants. He's just the guy I've only seen in our quiet moments alone.

And it makes me have to fight everything in me not to kiss him. My mind is spinning. I can't help my heart from racing or the laugh that tumbles from my lips. All because of Tom. It's like he's bringing out a side of me I've never known. One that I have no control of.

And it terrifies me. Because this is the Tom I knew so many years ago, the one I had a crush on, and the one person I could love. Except, there's that sliver of fear lingering in the back of my head.

The feeling seems to jumpstart the logical side of my brain, which reminds me that this is nothing more than a game. It's nothing more than a simple bet to see who can make the other fall first, and I can't afford to lose. I can't afford to be broken when he inevitably leaves.

Tom leans in closer, and I swear my heart stutters in my chest. His eyes dart down to my lips for a split second as he licks his own. Then he seems to snap out of his reverie and shouts so I can hear. "I'm gonna get a drink. You want anything?" I shake my head and watch as he leaves.

There's a twinge of disappointment that echoes through me at the thought of the kiss that could have happened. But I shake it off and force myself to keep dancing.

...

Tom's POV

I walk away from Y/N and try to sort through my own thoughts. I almost kissed her. I wanted to kiss her. She just looks so happy and real and carefree right now. It's intoxicating and terrifying.

All the more reason I need a drink. I nod to Haz, who is leaning against the counter and gives me a look when I walk in. "So—how are things going?" My mind goes blank, and I have no idea what to even say. "Have you told her yet?"

"Told her what?" I question as I mix my drink.

"That you love her." Haz says it so casually as if he was talking about the weather, and I freeze. "C'mon, dude, it's obvious. You've liked her for years now, and I see the way you look at her."

"We both know she doesn't like me like that, mate."

"And if I told you she might?" He asks quietly and takes a long sip. "Because I know Y/N, and there's something different about her since you guys started this. She's—more herself. Just—talk to her about it. Make sure she knows you're serious about this outside the bet."

I open my mouth to respond, but I get interrupted by a hand on my shoulder and one of my friends saying, "Mate, I'd get back to your girl. Jack's got his eye on her tonight." The words make me nauseated and pissed off at the same time. Jack's an asshole who does whatever he wants to get his way, and the mere thought of him being near Y/N makes my knuckles go white as I slam my cup down.

My eyes frantically search through the mass of bodies, anxious to find and make sure she's okay. Unfortunately, I see her trying to shove Jack off as he keeps a tight grip on her waist as he presses his lips to hers, despite her obvious protest and dismay. The scene turns the whole room red, and my thoughts become hazy as I stomp over to them.

Although, Y/N reacts before I can, and Jack doubles over with his hands over his crotch. I take the initiative to lift him straight enough to give him a decent hit. "Don't you ever touch her like that again." I seethe as I grip onto his collar before letting him fall to the floor.

I turn around and rush after Y/N as she frantically runs out of the house. I find her out front with her hands on her knees as she tries to keep her breathing even. Tears stream down her face and smear her makeup. The sight of her so upset—so broken—makes me want to march back inside and make sure Jack doesn't get up as easily as before.

But I stay. Because Y/N clearly needs someone right now, and something in my gut says it should be—has to be—me.

She looks up at me with teary eyes when I take a slow step towards her. I don't move closer and make no attempt to touch her. I don't want to scare her or hurt her further by doing something without her permission.

It only takes a second before she tumbles into my arms and cries into my shirt. "Hey, it's okay, love. I've got you," I whisper into her hair as I rub gentle circles on her back. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

Haz emerges from the house, rustled and bloody knuckled. He gives me an approving nod when he notices Y/N slowly calming down. "C'mon, I'll drive both of you home." He offers and takes my keys since we all came together. "Just stay with her, okay?"

She slowly stops crying as we drive but makes no attempt to move away from my grip. If anything, she holds onto me tighter and hides her face in my shirt. I press a kiss to the top of her head and wish there was something more I could do.

When we make it to Harrison's, she finally lets go and practically races into the house the moment the car stops. "Is she gonna be okay?" I ask quietly and stare at the still open front door.

"Maybe." He mumbles as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel in thought. "I can talk to her and let you know."

"Actually—" I turn the thought over in my mind. Something in me screams not to leave just yet, "—do you mind if I hang around? Just be here in case there's something I can do to help?"

There's a ghost of a smile that tugs at the edges of his lips. "Yeah, mate. You're welcome to stay." He pauses for a long moment before saying, "I think she needs you more than she'll admit. Just—just give her some time. She's been through a lot, but she'll tell you when she's ready."

I nod. There's so much I don't know about Y/N, but as much as I didn't want to admit it, I would do anything for her to feel comfortable enough to confide in. Because—I think I might just love her.