Page 131 of Fault Lines
Cam crossed the club toward us, shoulders squared, eyes intent. He paused when he reached us, forcing a polite smile. “Hey, Livi.” His voice was even, but his gaze searched my face. “You look amazing.”
“Thanks,” I managed, though there was an ache in my chest that made it hard to draw breath. I tried to smile for him, and for a second I could feel the old ache, the longing that used to ruin me.
Nate angled himself between us, a human wall.
He offered a chilly little laugh. “Wow, look who’s here.” He didn’t move aside.
I could feel the tension spike as Nate squared up, protective and a little menacing. The easy, sparkling energy of the night was gone now, replaced by something tighter and more brittle.
“Cam.” Nate’s voice was all challenge. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Cam’s jaw ticked, but he held his ground. “Nate,” he nodded, not quite smiling. “Good to see you.”
“Yeah, you too,” Nate shot back, every syllable clipped and clear. He was not here to be friendly.
The two of them might as well have drawn lines in the sticky bar floor. It should have been funny, but all I felt was nauseous.
Nate’s arm hovered at my back, like he was afraid Cam would try to snatch me away if he let go for a second. I looked for Rachel. She was at the edge of the dance floor, reading the tension and already moving closer.
Cam seemed to sense the weirdness, too. He shifted back a step, then said, “I should probably check in with my friends.” His tone tried for casual, hopeful, but there was a note of regret in it.
He nodded toward me. “I’m going to head to the bar. I didn’t come to cause trouble, Livi. I promise.” Then he melted into the crowd and was gone.
Only when he disappeared did I realize how tightly I’d been holding onto my own nerves.
“You okay?” Rachel was suddenly at my elbow, all soft concern.
“Yeah.” I wanted it to sound solid, but it sounded thin and far away. “I just… wasn’t expecting to see him here.”
Nate’s hand went to the small of my back. “Let’s get another drink.” His voice was strained, and even in the dim club lights I could see the tension in his jaw.
We cut across the floor to the bar, deliberately choosing the one farthest from Cam. Nate ordered a double whiskey for himself and another cocktail for me. The bartender barely set the drinks down before Nate drained his glass in one go.
I put my hand on his arm, worried. “Slow down. We’ve got all night.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. The muscle jumped in his jaw as he signaled for another. “I just need to take the edge off.”
Rachel glanced at me, her eyes serious, but she ushered Jackson back onto the dance floor to give us space.
I sipped my drink, trying to ignore how Nate’s gaze kept flicking to where Cam stood at the opposite bar.
“He’s not even looking over here,” I said, hoping to pour a little water on the fire. “He’s giving us space, just like he said he would.”
Nate didn’t look convinced. “That’s not the point.” He picked up his next whiskey and drank it even faster. “He shouldn’t be here at all. This is our night.”
I felt a twinge of annoyance. “It’s a public place. He has every right to be here.”
Nate’s eyes cut sideways. “Are you defending him now?”
I held up a hand. “No, I’m just saying it’s not worth getting worked up over.”
“Let’s dance,” he snapped, grabbing my hand and pulling me back into the crush of the floor.
The music was loud again, but I couldn’t find my way back to feeling good. Nate was tense against me; his grip on my waist was firmer than before, almost possessive, and the smell of whiskey was sharp every time he leaned in.
His words were hot in my ear: “You look so fucking hot tonight. Every guy in here is watching you.”
I tried to relax, to make his admiration feel like a balm, but his focus wasn’t really on me at all. He kept looking past me, tracking Cam’s every move, and after a few songs, he pulled away again.
