Page 35 of Stroke of Fate

We gather around a small two-seater table pushed against the wall. Three bottles of tequila are already lined up. Macy grabs one and fills three glasses with scary precision.

“To Bear’s first of many Huska parties,” Elsie grins, raising her glass.

We clink our glasses together, and I tip my head back, downing the bitter liquid.

“Damn, I always forget how nasty that stuff is,” Elsie says, making a face.

“Ugh, that wasn’t the good tequila,” I groan, shuddering as the alcohol settles in my stomach.

“Gets the job done, though,” Macy chuckles.

After another round of shots, we head back to the dance floor, quickly losing ourselves in the crowd of writhing bodies. Occasionally, I feel someone move up behind me, their body swaying against mine, and as much as I try not to, my mind immediately goes to Levi.

Every time I turn around, and it’s not him, a twinge of disappointment settles over me.

Not wanting to dwell on the feeling, I lean into the stranger behind me and push those thoughts aside. On the car ride, I promised myself that tonight, I’d pretend my problems weren’t problems until the morning.

A few songs later, I start feeling the effects of all the dancing and sweaty bodies around me. Spotting Elsie dancing with someone, I catch Macy’s attention.

“I’m going to grab a water,” I shout over the music, hoping she can hear me or is at least able to read my lips.

She nods, grabbing my arm before I can leave. “Text me if you can’t find us.”

I give her a thumbs up and weave my way through the crowd, which has doubled in size since we arrived.

I’m standing at the entrance to the kitchen when I spot Finn leaning against the counter. Taking the coward’s way out, I’m about to turn and leave, but he chooses that moment to look up.

Shoot. Leaving now would make it obvious that I’m avoiding him, and dammit, I am thirsty.

Besides, I was planning on smoothing things over with him anyway, seeing as we share a class and would have to face each other eventually.

Still feeling the lingering effects of the tequila, I walk into the kitchen with a smidge of confidence, grab a water, and make my way over to him.

“Hey,” I say tentatively, twisting the bottle cap in my hand back and forth.

I take it as a good sign when he tips his head in greeting.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Look, Finn, I wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened yesterday.”

He tilts the glass bottle in his hand toward me. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.”

“Maybe,” I shrug. “But I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“You could have told me you were with someone.”

“I’m not with anyone. Nothing’s going on between Levi and me.” The words rush out of me, and I hope they sound more convincing to him than they do to me.

“Does he know that?”

“What? Yeah, of course, he—”

Finn’s narrowed gaze lingers over my shoulder, and I turn instinctively to see what’s got his attention.

Levi.

He’s standing where I was minutes ago, staring back at us. Our eyes lock. He’s the first to look away, but not before I catch the pissed look on his face. Watching him disappear into the crowd causes the tequila in my stomach to turn sour.

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