Page 44 of One Room Vacancy
“We were never actually banned,” I say, hopping down and recapping the bottle with all the grace of someone who should not be handling open liquor. “It was more of a stern talking-to.”
Savannah raises her ginger ale in a toast. “To stern talking-tos.”
“To bad decisions,” Hannah adds, wiping her mouth.
I grin and clink my glass against hers. “To all the above.”
I’m still laughing when I feel the shift.
A ripple behind me—like the energy in the room recalibrates without warning.
“Can I go next?” a low voice asks, smooth and smug and just the right amount of dirty.
We all turn at once.
Liam’s leaning in behind Hannah, hand resting casually on the back of her stool, eyes locked on her like she’s the only person in the building.
She blinks up at him, her face still flushed from tequila and laughter. “Go what?”
He lifts a brow. “Do whatever she just did to you.”
“Oh my God,” Gen mutters, half amused, half scandalized.
Hannah just shakes her head, grinning as she tugs him in for a kiss like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And, suddenly, I know.
If Liam’s here, if they’re here, then so is he.
I feel it before I see him. That static pull at the back of my neck, the quiet gravity that only ever means one thing.
I don’t turn right away.
Instead, I reach for my drink, still half-full, still cold, and wrap my fingers around the glass like I’ve got all the time in the world. I lift the straw to my lips, slow and deliberate, and let my tongue flick against it just slightly before taking a sip.
The kind of move you don’t think about when no one’s watching—the kind you only make when you know someone is.
And I know he is.
“Nice dress.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I feel his breath ghost past my skin, low and close and entirely unfair.
I don’t flinch, I don’t turn.
I take another slow sip, letting my tongue drag slightly against the straw before I set the glass back down.
Then, finally, I glance over my shoulder.
“Eh,” I say, lifting one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “This ol’ thing?”
His eyes flick down, just briefly. “Hard to think straight when you look like that.” There’s a pause—tight, loaded. “I’m a little distracted.”
My mouth curves, slow and dangerous. “That sounds like a you problem.”
He huffs a quiet laugh.
But he doesn’t move.
