Page 134 of Burn Bright

“I hate that guy,” I say.

Beckett’s not even listening to me, he’s fixed on his little brother. “Don’t entertain him, Tom.”

“He was going to buy me a drink. Why would I turn down a free drink, dude?”

“Because you can buy your own drinks,” Beckett says smoothly. I must be getting to know them better—since I can see his subtle aggravation.

Tom groans and side-eyes the general direction Leo walked off to. “I can’t help it, Beckett Joyce—I was just a bystander.Hewas flirting withme. Right, Harry?” He twists to me for confirmation.

But Beckett doesn’t give me a chance to reply. “He’s using you to piss me off,” he tells Tom. “Letting him inside of you will be the worst decision of your life. Just stay away from him.”

Marjorie pushes the three drinks toward us, her eyes darting warily between Beckett and Tom like she doesn’t mean to interrupt.

“What is this, Marj?” Beckett asks her.

“Two vodka Cokes and a Shirley Temple.” She’s summoned to the other side of the bar and rushes away.

Beckett gives Tom one of his supremely famouswhat the fuckfaces. “Coke?” Ah, this must have to do with the fact that their family owns Fizzle, the competing soda company.

“Dude, I did not order this.” Tom takes the Shirley Temple. “I’m going to go find the other birthday boy.” He sidesteps away from the bar, and Beckett lets out a deep exhale before turning to me. I’m still not used to being in Beckett’s presence. It’s easier when another Cobalt boy is around. But if it’s just him—I find myself sweating. Especially now that I’m keeping a giant secret from him.

Ben is planning to move to the remote wilderness in November.

I ache to tell him. Maybe Beckett would be able to convince Ben to stay, but if I utter the truth—I’d blow up my friendship…or whatever I have with Ben in a single instant.

I’m fucked up.

Not a great person.

Selfish.

Because I can’t manage to speak the truth. I just say, “Happy birthday.” And scamper away as quickly as Tom did. Pushing through the crowds, I find Ben stuck in a cluster of people. Surrounded by a wall of bodies. I think about shoving toward him, fighting through the small gaps of people.

But I don’t have to. He towers over everyone and looks around, his gaze planting on mine in milliseconds.

He smiles and weaves his way toward me.

When he’s in front of me, I imagine the world’s most epic reunion (not that we’ve been away from each other for long), but there is some sort of fairytale in being swept up in each other’s arms and spun around on a dance floor in a public display ofaffection. It’s a silly thought. Even though we’ve hooked up once, we’re still just friends.

It is what it is…he gave me an orgasm to help me out during a dry spell, not to build a foundation to some long-lasting relationship. But if he asked to fool around again, even with the threat of emotions slipping through the cracks, I’d say yes. I’d sayhellyes. Because the hot mental image of his fingers disappearing inside me has been cycling through my head on repeat since it happened six days ago.

It’s not really a question whether he’s been thinking about that night. I can see the way he slowly undresses me, as if he’s recalling his hands on my bare skin. It gives me free rein to check him out too.

He’s in more formal attire for the ballet. Black slacks fit his ass and muscled thighs too well, and I could thank the club’s heat index for making Ben roll up the sleeves of his royal-blue button-down. I wonder if he can tell how obsessed I am with his strong forearms. With the veins spindling down to his large, masculine hands.

He definitely can, Harriet.Neither of us tuck our attraction away. Nope, it is very fucking present.

He stops inches away, his eyes flitting from my lips back up to my gaze in a quick, sexy beat. It skips my pulse.

“Fisher,” he greets with a wide grin. “How have you survived without me?”

“Well, I was denied a Modelo. CalledShortie. And your brothers had a heated exchange in spitting distance of me, so I would say, I am thoroughly alive.”

Ben frowns. “Who called you Shortie?” His gaze narrows to hot pinpoints at the crowds, and I bite my lip, feeling my perpetual scowl morph into a smile.

“This Leo Valavanis jerk,” I say more upbeat because I am fuckinggiddyright now at Ben wanting to defend my honor.Calm yourself, Harriet.

Recognition hits Ben. “That’s Beckett’s rival in the company.”