Page 52 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Now

Don’t go. Just stay. A little while longer. With me.

I stood in a flash, nearly knocking over the milk crates I was sitting on as I shot for the door of the walk-in. I barely made it to Gemma before Kieran appeared behind her, looking confused as all get out.

His confusion transformed when his eyes shot over my shoulder to what I’m sure was a very strapping musician emerging from the walk-in right behind me.

“Thank god you found us,” I explained, trying my best to sound graciously casual. “We were bringing the flower arrangements in here for the night, and we got locked in.” It was the truth, but even I thought it sounded like a load of bullshit.

Gemma jumped right in. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! My uncle mentioned the door can stick sometimes. It doesn’t actually lock from the inside, but if the pressure and temperature are just right, the seal can stick so tight you’ d think it is.”

Gee, that would’ve been nice to know twenty minutes ago.

Kieran’s eyes darted from me to Nate, his posture all rigid lines and tight agitation.

The industrial kitchen was muggy and too warm compared to the fridge. Nervous sweat gathered under my arms.

“How long were you in there?” Gemma asked, attempting concern as she led us away from the walk-in. I started to follow, but was engulfed by Kieran’s frame as he guided me in the opposite direction with a stern hand at the back of my neck.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We need to talk,” he said in a clipped, hushed tone, closing me off from the others when we reached a wall. “Now.”

From my periphery, Nate’s steps slowed to a stop, followed by Gemma’s when she realized nobody was following her.

“Is everything okay?” Nate called.

Kieran ignored him, instead grabbing my wrist and ushering me farther away.

“Come on, let’s go.” His pull on my arm wasn’t aggressive, just insistent.

Even without the smell of liquor on his breath, I could see on his face that he was wasted and most certainly angry about something more than just finding me in the walk-in.

As I opened my mouth to tell Kieran to let go of my arm, Nate was there in front of him with both palms out, attempting to defuse whatever bomb was about to go off. “Hey, man. Chill out, okay?” His jaw jumped as he clocked Kieran’s hand around my wrist.

Kieran must not have liked Nate’s proximity because he dropped my wrist and took a sure step forward, shoving Nate in a sharp push to the shoulder. It wasn’t enough to knock him off balance, but it forced him to take a step backward.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Gemma shouted distantly, stomping closer .

“I’d like to talk to my girlfriend in private.” Kieran took another intimidating step toward Nate. “So, back off.”

Oh, fuck.

A calm mask slipped over Nate’s face as he raised his eyebrows at Kieran. Straightening, he slipped his hands into his pockets, unbothered by the drunken outburst save for the focused, stoically enraged look in his eyes.

Kieran didn’t stand down. “You had your chance, rockstar.”

I found my voice as Gemma reached us. “Okay, that’s enough.” Putting my hands on Kieran’s broad shoulder, I attempted to steer him away before he did anything else stupid. “Let’s go.”

He refused to move at first, an immovable force, but then he turned and stalked out of the kitchen, leading me like a child from the scene. Gemma shot me a look that said, What the fuck? as I passed her, but there was nothing I could say back.

As we rounded the corner, I glanced over my shoulder to where Nate stood. He was still rooted to the spot where I’d left him, jaw working, eyes tracking me until I was out of view.

The realization of what happened hit me like a ton of bricks.

Kieran got in Nate’s face—shoved him. Physically put hands on him.

I didn’t always have the best judgment, but I did know, as well as any kindergartner, that violence was never the answer.

There had to be something else Kieran was upset about, because there was no way he saw what Gemma saw in the walk-in.

Whatever that was.

He stalked with me closely behind all the way to our cabin suite. By the time we shut the door, Kieran rippled with anger. It painted every inch of him, but it painted me, too .

“Care to explain what the hell that was all about?” I snapped. “You are clearly upset, I can see that, but you didn’t have to beat your chest and haul me away like some kind of—”

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to find shit out about your own girlfriend by some random people you don’t even know?” he interrupted.

There was only one thing he could’ve been talking about, but my stubbornness wanted to hear him say it. Wanted to hear him say the thing that was making him act like a raving lunatic. I put my hands on my hips, raising an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

“That you apparently used to go out with that loser fucking musician.”

There it was. The thing I only kept from Kieran because it didn’t seem worth bringing up. The thing I thought didn’t matter— wouldn’t matter—especially to someone as kind and confident as Kieran. But there it was anyway.

“Then,” he continued, stepping closer to me, “imagine my surprise when I try to find you to talk about it, and I find you with him. Alone. And wearing his fucking jacket. Or at least, I assume it’s his because it sure as shit isn’t mine.”

I looked down at Nate’s black hoodie and shook my head. Kieran didn’t see us in the walk-in. For all he knew, we were on opposite sides of the fridge before Gemma opened the door. And besides, nothing happened. Almost happened didn’t matter. What mattered was what happened—and nothing happened.

“We were locked in a fridge, Kieran. Did you expect him to let me freeze to death? And I told you we didn’t date.” Because we didn’t .

“Maybe not.” He rolled his eyes, the movement delayed by his drunkenness. “But you guys were together. At least long enough for your friends to remember it.”

“What exactly did you hear?”

“I overheard some of those… people you went to school with. They were wondering where he was. And when they put two and two together that he stayed behind and you were both here , helping do Gemma’s wedding shit…

” He made a face and shook his head. “They laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. They were talking about how you guys used to hook up. They didn’t know I could hear them, but that doesn’t matter.

I still look like a fucking idiot for letting you stay behind. ”

I ran a hand over my face, unsure of where to start.

Saying he “let” me stay behind is messed up, for starters.

I didn’t have a chance to respond before Kieran took another unsteady step toward me and continued.

“Tell me the truth, Olive. Is there anything I need to worry about with that… fucking nobody? ”

“Don’t call him that.” The words were out of my mouth before I even thought of them.

He staggered back. “What, you’re defending him now?”

“No. Not just him. It isn’t cool to call anyone a ‘nobody,’ Kieran. What the hell?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Fine,” I said, taking a steadying breath. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears. “When Gemma and I met all of them back in school, we were both very, very single. Yes, Nate and I have hooked up—”

Kieran threw his hands in the air as if to say, See, Your Honor? She’s guilty .

“But it might as well be ancient history. It wasn’t worth bringing up.”

“You’re serious?” his voice rose. “You actually slept with that guy? Really, Olive?”

“Why do you say it like it’s supposed to be some kind of insult? You don’t see me grilling you about every person you’ve hooked up with. We can have a conversation, but what’s with the interrogation?”

“I just never thought you’d stoop so low.”

My blood boiled. Not just because of the attitude he had going on at the moment, but because of the implication that Nate was some kind of lowlife.

I blinked at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He smirked back and shrugged. “What do you think?”

I knew what he meant. Maybe I’d chosen to look past it all this time, but Kieran didn’t have a shred of respect for anything even remotely related to the arts.

He may not have said it directly, but he didn’t have to.

To him, musicians were deadbeats who didn’t have real jobs and were going nowhere in life.

People who made their living designing or creating content on social media, like Gemma, were air-headed, stuck-up narcissists.

My job must have come with just enough bragging rights to be palatable for him, but even I had to take a share of backhanded comments from time to time over the years.

To him, it was still a hobby. Not a real living.

He thought we were all beneath him, and he was finally acknowledging it. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I’d never been less attracted to Kieran than I was at that exact moment.

“You know what?” I turned on my heel. “You’re drunk.

I don’t know what this alpha male bullshit is, but it isn’t cute.

I’m going to go back out there and finish helping Gemma because she is my best friend, and she is getting married tomorrow.

” I clocked the roll of his eyes. “She asked for my help. Which, for your information, is what I’ve been doing the whole day.

Despite your attempt at slut shaming me, or whatever this is.

If you want to have an actual conversation, we can have it later. You need to sober up.”

I kept my head down as I walked back to the beer garden to finish my task alone and clean up our workstation. I vibrated with anger, irritation, and embarrassment. There were only a few more vases left, and I’d lost track of what else Gemma needed help with.

In a perfect world, I would bury my head in the sand for the rest of the day.

My feet crunched to a halt when I got back to the beer garden. The area was completely cleared. The flowers, the vases, the tubs of water and flower scraps, everything. It was all gone.

Like we hadn’t been there at all.