Page 20 of Before We Were

"Must be a new out-of-towner. Fuck, she's nice to look at," another voice chimes in. "He's one lucky son of a bitch."

A sickening feeling coils in my gut before I even see her—Nora. I feel her presence like a shift in the atmosphere, a gravitational pull that's impossible to resist.

"I'd like to get between tho??—"

"You won't finish that sentence if you know what's good for you," I snap, my voice low and deadly.

I turn, and there she is.

Nora moves through the crowd with an effortless grace that draws every eye in the room. Her skirt clings to her curves, Chuck Taylors stark against the white hemline, crop top revealing a strip of golden skin that makes my fingers itch to touch. Her hair flows over her shoulders in waves I remember running my hands through in dreams. Despite her casual confidence, her eyes remain distant, guarded like she's wearing invisible armor.

I've watched her draw attention effortlessly all her life, a force of nature that can't be contained. But the truth hits hard—I'm not the guy she once knew. I'm damaged goods, fractured by life's harsh trials, while she remains untouched by the darkness that consumes me.

"Who is she?" Farrah presses, her curiosity laced with venom.

"No one," I lie.

"If she's no one, why are you getting so defensive over her?"

"I'm not in the mood for interrogations tonight, Farrah."

"It's a fucking question, Nate."

"And I'm done answering questions," I growl, shoving her hands away. A surge of claustrophobia washes over me. Nora shouldn't be here. Jake should never have brought her. I can't be near her, yet I can't leave now that she's here.

"Are you fucking her?" Farrah's voice slices through the tension.

"What?" I snap, incredulous.

"You heard me. Are you??—"

"No. She's not—it's not like—" I cut myself off, realizing this isn't a conversation I want to have with anyone, especially not Farrah.

"Well, she looks like a sl??—"

I'm in her face before she can finish, my finger pointed sharply. "Choose your words wisely, Farrah. Very fucking wisely."

She leans in, her face inches from mine, her breath hitching as if she might kiss me.

Instead, she whispers, "Looks like your little damsel just made a new friend."

I follow her gaze, and my stomach drops. Nora's no longer with Jake; she's laughing with Connor fucking James. Of all the people at this fucking party, it had to be him. I loathe him on a good day, but seeing him with Nora—watching her smile at him—that's enough to make me want to tear every limb from his body. Or maybe it's just the sting of seeing him hold her attention—attention I desperately want, that's driving me insane.

"I need a drink." I don't glance back at Farrah as I head straight for Ollie, who's sprawled on a sofa looking far too comfortable with a girl clinging to his side.

"Natey boy!" Ollie slurs his greeting, words swimming in alcohol. He's plastered, but I'm not one to judge.

"Your sister's here," I snap, cutting through his drunken haze.

"I know. Jake said he was going back to get her." Concern flickers across Ollie's face as he sits up. "Where is she? Is she all right?"

Yeah, well, he's done a pretty shitty job of that.

"Have you seen him?"

"Nah man, sorry. Oh, this is Vanessa, by the way." He gestures to the brunette beside him.

“Ol, Nora shouldn't be here." My reply is terse, focus already shifting.

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