I was walking blindly, not really knowing where I was going. There was a stream of people flowing down the hallway, and I followed along aimlessly.

The hotel's decadent splashes of amber blurred around me. Or maybe that was just from the tears that had formed in my eyes.

Bren's voice called my name, but I couldn't turn around. He'd been the picture of calm, blinking down at me as if our conversation had been misplaced. As if I was overreacting. Because unlike him, I was anything but calm.

I didn't want to have a conversation. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to kick something.

In my heart, I knew Bren was telling the truth when he said that everything between him and church-basement-girl was in the past. But what I couldn't believe was that he hadn't told me. About any of it.

And oh god, it hurt. It hurt so much to think that all the days when I'd felt empty without him, she'd been there getting her fill. They were together while we were apart.

I crumbled at the thought, quickly clutching onto a marble pillar that framed the entrance to the hotel's ballroom. Because my heart didn't care that it was years ago when they'd hooked up; my heart didn't care that it was in the past. Suddenly, it seemed fresh.

Moisture had leaked from my eyes and settled on my skin, dampening my mask. I whipped it off.

"Madie? Is that you?"

The voice that called my name this time wasn't Bren's.

I glanced up, blinking as Professor Evan's face came into view. I frowned until I remembered that this whole thing was put on by the university's history department. It shouldn't be a surprise that he was here.

Professor Evans stood a few feet away with his arm around a woman in a long black dress. I could only assume it was his wife, Lana, even though it was difficult to tell given the matte mask she wore.

"Hi," I said breathlessly, wiping at my face and thanking the heavens that I'd decided to wear waterproof make-up. But it was probably still obvious that I'd been crying, and my cheeks flamed in embarrassment. "Yeah, it's me. Don't mind the wig."

Professor Evans—Hale—frowned and broke away from his wife to walk over to me. He leaned down, putting a gentle arm around my shoulders just as I heard Bren call my name again from a distance.

"Is everything okay?" he asked softly.

Ignoring Bren, I nodded. Hale stood straight again, dropping his arm.

"Alright," he said, though he didn't look convinced. I fixed my mask back over my face as he invited me to join him and Lana. Since I didn't know where Nessa or Beau had gone, and I wasn't ready to face Bren yet, I followed him. As we walked back to his wife, he glanced over at me and muttered, "Have there been any problems with Brodie?"

I shook my head. I hadn't seen Brodie since the day Hale kicked him out of class. And every time I walked into McLaren Hall and didn't have to face that asshole, my breathing came just a little bit easier than the day before.

"Good," Hale said with a nod, and I could tell that he meant it. "Please tell me if there is anything else I can do about it."

I shook my head again. "You've done more than enough, Professor Evans."

"Oh, you called him professor," Lana said with a laugh as we slid in next to her. She gave me a huge smile—a smile like we'd known each other forever. "He hates that. Makes him feel old."

I smiled back at her before peeking over at her husband. "Sorry. You've done more than enough, Hale."

He waved a hand as if to say it wasn't a problem. "I like to pretend that I'm still in my early twenties, and being called Professor Evans doesn't really help."

"How old are you?" I asked without thinking.

"Quickly approaching thirty." Hale chuckled at his admission, and a little laugh slipped through my lips as well.

"He's been complaining about it a lot lately," Lana added with a cheeky grin, and I couldn't help but stare at her. Her crimson lipstick made her smile appear even brighter, adding a pop of color to her black gown and matching mask. Diamonds sparkled in her ears, reflecting off the lighting in the ballroom as her head bobbed a bit while she talked. The entire ensemble screamed Hollywood, and I wondered if I would ever look as put together as her.

"You make fun, but you're aging right there with me," Hale said, cutting into my thoughts. He glanced over at his wife with a twinkle in his eyes.

These two made my heart ache. Right now, all I wanted was this—what they seemed to have. A settled life together. A simple, playful love.

I happily watched as the couple exchanged a few more teasing remarks. After a couple more minutes went by, I sighed. "I should probably go find my friends," I said.

"Of course, don't let us keep you," Lana hurried to say.

Hale, on the other hand, had a funny expression on his face. After a moment of clear deliberation, he leaned closer to me.

"Tell me," he said thoughtfully, "about this guy who has been glaring at your back since the minute I walked over to you."

Following Hale's line of vision, I turned and saw him. Bren was resting against a far pillar, his arms folded over his chest. One foot was kicked across the other as he leaned there, his stance casual despite a tense expression. That mouth of his was pulled in a tight line. And his eyes. His dark eyes were fixated on me, and they weren't moving.

There was a dangerous edge to the way he glared across the room, and my body betrayed me. My pulse ticked faster. My breath caught in my throat. The hair on my bare arms stood up as goosebumps covered my skin.

Hale's voice was quiet next to me. "I don't usually get involved in other people's business, but considering what you've told me before and what I've seen, I just wanted to...check. Do I need to get rid of this one, too?"

I shook my head without hesitating.

"No," I whispered. "No, but thank you."

I felt his head nod, and I glanced over my shoulder to give both him and Lana a small, encouraging smile. It was reassuring to me that there were people like them in the world. Nice, uncomplicated people.

After one more peek at the professor and his wife, I took off across the ballroom in search of Nessa and Beau. And I didn't even spare another glance at my sulking boyfriend.

But, honestly, I didn't need to look. Because I could feel him. Bren's gaze was boring a hole in the back of my head. And somehow, it was hot. The temperature of my skin rose, and a flush surely worked its way across my face.

Luckily, it only took a few sweeps around the room to find who I was looking for. The ballroom wasn't overly large, but it sure was fancy as hell. The dazzling chandeliers were the focal points, while Renessaince-styled art covered the walls with its heavy golds and soft brush strokes. And sitting at a round table beside the furthest painted wall was Nessa.

Her elbows rested on the pressed linen table cloth, her face in her palms. Jonathon seemed to be talking her ear off, and she already appeared bored with him. The table was large enough to fit about eight people, and Beau and church-basement-girl were on the other side of it, murmuring and flashing heady glances at each other.

Nessa's face brightened as she saw me. And then I noticed how her eyes slid to something—or someone—over my shoulder. I knew who it was, and still, I kept walking. The expression she wore shifted, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

There was an awkward chair between Nessa and Jonathon—apparently, she wasn't looking to get too close to him yet—and I didn't hesitate to drop into the empty seat.

Jonathon stopped talking mid-sentence, shooting me an annoyed look.

Nessa gave me a look too, but it wasn't one of annoyance. Her brows jumped all the way up, threatening to reach her hairline as Bren stopped short next to us. Frustration rolled off of him in waves, and Nessa's eyes darted between our faces.

"Madie," Bren began, his voice tight. "Just let me—"

"There's a spot by Beau," I said, pointing across the table and trying to keep my voice from shaking.

At his name, Beau's head jerked up. His eyes also began to flick between Bren and me. But Bren's eyes shot to Beau and then back at me. He didn't move.

"Madeline," Bren tried again.

"Don't," I said, cutting him off. I couldn't resist him when he called me Madeline. It made my head foggy and my insides hot, and I just needed a fucking minute to think.

Bren gave an exasperated sigh and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up. Shoving one of his fists into his pocket, he strode to the chair next to Beau and yanked it out. Beau's eyes widened as Bren dropped into the seat dramatically, slouching down. With a flick of his wrist, he unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket. Beneath it, his black dress shirt stretched across his chest.

I could have groaned. Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive? It almost made me forget how mad at him I was. Almost.

Insane. Madeline Lenertz was driving me insane.

She was driving me insane because she wouldn't fucking talk to me. She would barely fucking look at me. Shit, I'd rather she just yell at me.

But no. She kept ignoring me instead, leaving me to glare at her backside. And even though her ass was hot as hell in that skin-tight dress, threatening to send me into a spiral of desire, I wasn't currently interested in staring at it. I was only fucking interested in making her understand that she had nothing to worry about when it came to Collins.

That, and I wanted to know who the fuck that guy was who'd put his goddamn hands on her. Because shit, when Madie had leaned into him, whispering something I couldn't hear, I nearly lost it.

I'd been jealous a million times when it came to Madie. The entire time that she'd been dating Quinton, jealousy had pumped in my veins, keeping my body running on the hatred I felt for that asshole and the growing need I had for Madie. Jealousy was my daily experience, and I had acclimated to it. Because at the time, I never thought that Madie would be mine.

But now she was. She was mine.

So what the hell had she been doing over there, letting someone else touch her? If she'd done it to piss me off, it had worked insanely well.

I wasn't pissed at Madie. But hell, I was so fucking pent up with my need for her. All I'd thought about for the past month was the next time I would get to see her—how I would kiss her and hold her and whisper in her ear. And all of those repeating thoughts had built my emotions and desires up so goddamn high; sprinkling jealousy into the mix nearly caused me to explode.

It certainly didn't help that now she was sitting across the table, refusing to give me the time of day. Fuck, I was annoyed. Beau and Collins didn't pay me any attention either, talking about god knows what while I stewed in my seat.

Light piano music played in the background, floating over the mingling guests. It was so soothing, so soft and everything I wasn't feeling at the moment, that the sweet sounds grated on my nerves.

By the time the first course of the meal arrived, Madie still hadn't looked at me. No matter how long I stared or how much I mentally urged her to glance my way, she was steadfast in her determination to drive me crazy.

I was left to study her, take in everything about her. From the blue eyes glittering through her mask to the full, pinkened lips. From the tiny wisp of strawberry blonde hair that had slipped out beneath her wig to the plunging neckline of her gown that had me gripping my wine glass tighter. It had me wishing that my wine glass actually had wine in it, or really any kind of alcohol. Anything that could burn away the ache in my chest.

But all I had to drink at the moment was water, so I drowned myself in that instead, chewing and grinding my teeth on stray ice cubes.

We must have been halfway through the second course when Madie finally peered up, and our eyes met. She was in the middle of slipping a bit of soup into her mouth, and she paused, her hand suspended in midair as we gazed at each other.

I wanted to say something, anything, but I didn't know how to. Not with an audience of Collins, Beau, Nessa, and whoever that fucking guy was sitting next to Madie.

But thankfully, she didn't look away. Madie's lips clamped down on the spoon before she slowly pulled it out of her mouth. My own mouth went dry, watching her. And if that wasn't bad enough, her seductive gaze held mine as she gave the curved metal an extra lick before sliding it into her mouth again.

I was pretty sure there was nothing left on that spoon. But if she wanted something in her mouth, I was more than happy to help.

My grip on the water glass tightened as I rose it to my lips. Peering over its edge, I kept my eyes on Madie as I took a long drink.

She momentarily froze before pulling the spoon out of her mouth, blinking rapidly as she clanked it down onto the table next to her plate. And then Madie looked away from me again, and I groaned.

"Bro, what the hell is going on?"

I glanced at Beau. Collins had turned to look at me, too. My groan must have been...pronounced.

"She's pissed at me." I shook my head in frustration. "You didn't tell her that I'd set you two up?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Beau looked at me like I was sprouting two heads. "You mean you didn't tell her?"

"I'm with Beau," Collins pipped in, raising a brow and taking a demure sip of her creamy soup. "This is your own damn fault, Bren," she added after swallowing.

Beau looked mighty proud of the fact that Collins had taken his side, and I wanted to smack him.

He was annoying.

But he was also right.

God, this was going to be a long night.

🤍
It's going to be a long night indeed.

😈

xoxo amelie