Page 62 of Dance of Defiance
“All good?” Brooklyn arches a brow.
I nod. “Yeah, they’re going to tell Laz about it.”
“Thank God,” Dove scowls. “He looks like he’d know how to take care of creeps.”
I keep my gaze on Dove a little longer.
Which tree are you barking up now, Laz…
“Heyhey, party people!”
I glance up to see a few familiar, grinning faces as more people head over to our booth: Miguel and James, who also dance with the Zakharova. Tate, who was my roommate for a while and is pretty close friends with James. And?—
Fuck.
Gerard.
Gerard of theliteralasshole selfie from this morning, when he was presumably still drugged out of his mind and fucking Chrissy. I vaguely remember him being somewhat friendly with Tate, but why the fuck is he here?Ugh.
I'm about to sound like a total dickhead, but my fuck buddies are precisely that:fuckbuddies. Not real buddies. Not friends I hang out with unless it's a situation involving my dick and one or several of their holes.
Naomi gets up to hug Miguel and James, and say hi to Tate. He slips past her and makes a discreet wincing face as he leans in to bump my fist and clap me on the back.
“Sorry, dude. He was literally waiting outside my place, looking for you.” Tate waggles his brows. “Still prefer the clingy pathetic ones, huh?”
Both Gerard and Chrissy have been texting me all night about the obvious.
I’ve been ignoring them harder than I ignored Roman.
“Hey guys.” Milena, ever charming—when she wants to be—smiles at Miguel and James. “Hey, Tate.”
“Hey, Milena,” he grins. “Still with that boy?—”
“Very much so,” she smiles politely.
He sighs. “And he’s still crazy, I guess?”
“Batshit,” she grins.
“Cool,” he nods. “Cool cool cool. Well, was worth a shot, right?”
Milena shoots me an exasperated look, then turns to Gerard. “Hi. I'm Milena.”
“Gerard,” he smiles back.
Naomi’s brow furrows. “Gerard…” Her eyes go wide as her face turns pink. “Oh my God…” She whirls to stare at me, pure incredulity in her eyes. “Gerardis here?”
“Thanks for the memo,” I hiss back, out of earshot of the rest of them with the music going.
Brooklyn frowns. “Wait, Gerard as in…”
Yep, it'll click for her in 3…2…1…
“Oh—GERARD!” she crows, trying and utterly failing to keep from laughing.
Gerard’s brows knit. “Did I, ah, miss something?”
“Your text message this morning with Chrissy went a little viral,” I mutter.
