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CHAPTER NINE

ALLY

“You owe me for this,” I grumble, arms crossed, as I glare at Rhys from across the table. I try to project an air of annoyance, but I know he can see through it.

He smirks, leaning back in his seat with an infuriatingly smug look. “You act like I dragged you here against your will.”

I roll my eyes. “You did. You just used emotional manipulation instead of force.” The truth is, it’s hard to stay mad, but I’m doing my best. It wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t being a little defiant.

“Worked, didn’t it?” he says with a smirk.

I huff, but I can’t deny it. I owe it to him after our conversation at Grumpy’s. Rhys caught me off guard and cornered me in the kitchen this morning. He had looked at me with that familiar determination burning in his dark eyes and suggested we get dinner somewhere casual, somewhere familiar.

“Grumpy’s,” he had said. “Just a normal night out. No pressure.”

It made sense. We came here all the time, and if anyone saw us together, they wouldn’t think twice about it. That was the only reason I agreed. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

But as I sit across from him, watching him nurse his beer while I toy with the condensation on my glass, I realise there’s nothing normal about this.

Not the way he keeps glancing at me like I might disappear. Not the way my pulse races every time his foot brushes mine under the table.

There’s an energy pulsing between us, more real than I am ready to admit.

It’s terrifying. And thrilling. It’s so completely Rhys that I’m at a loss as to what to do with it.

“This isn’t terrible, right?” he asks, raising a brow.

I snort, trying to hide my nervousness. “Give it time.”

And then, as if summoned by the universe to prove my point, the door to Grumpy’s swings open, and trouble strolls in.

Arden leads the charge, flanked by Chase, Yasmin, Ella, and—because apparently, I pissed off some cosmic deity—Ashley. I freeze, gripping my glass tighter as they scan the bar, their eyes settling on us like we’re a spectacle they can’t wait to crash. The second Arden spots us. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I mutter, slumping back against the booth.

Rhys exhales sharply. “Fucking Arden.”

Before either of us can make a move, our so-called friends descend on our table like seagulls sensing fresh hot chips. I watch them shuffle chairs around, excitement buzzing off of them in waves.

“Well, well, well,” Chase drawls, sliding into the seat beside me with a grin that’s half teasing, half congratulatory. “Look who we found sneaking off on a little date night.”

“This isn’t a date,” I say quickly, my voice higher than I intend.

Rhys glares at Arden, who has taken the seat to his right. “You tracked our location, didn’t you?”

Arden doesn’t even try to look innocent. “Duh. You both left separately but within ten minutes of each other. Acting all weird. What were we supposed to do?”

“Mind your own business?” Rhys suggests dryly.

Ella gasps dramatically. “Where’s the fun in that?” Her elbow nudges Yasmin, who nods and agrees with her.

I shoot Yasmin a pleading look, hoping for a shred of mercy, but she just grins, clearly enjoying this. “I mean, you guys do look a little suspicious,” she says.

Ella leans forward, resting her chin in her hands as she studies us like we’re a puzzle she’s about to solve. “You’re sitting closer than usual.”

Rhys grits his teeth. “You’re imagining things.”

“Are we?” With a sharp but amused look flickering between us, Ashley finally breaks her silence.

A slow wave of heat creeps up my neck. Ashley knows. Not sure how, but she does. And the worst part? She doesn’t look mad. If anything, she looks… pleased.

Before I can process that, Chase nudges my arm. “So, what were you two really doing before we crashed your little party?”

I open my mouth, searching for something casual, something that won’t make this worse, but then I shift in my seat and the world tilts.

It’s sudden and disorienting, a wave of dizziness that makes my stomach lurch. Holding the table's edge for support, I blink hard to fight the blur. The bar noise fades to a distant hum, my vision narrowing for a split second before everything snaps back into place. I glance around, my heart pounding, but no one notices.

Except Ashley.

She watches me carefully, her brows drawing together slightly. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes on me, assessing, calculating. I force a smile and take a slow sip of my drink, willing my body to behave, not to give away more than I can explain.

“So,” Yasmin says, breaking the moment, and the tension, I’m sure, is carved into my face. “Are we eating or just here to harass these two?”

“Both,” Chase answers easily. “Definitely both.”

“Don’t forget we’re also celebrating,” Arden adds.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask curiously. With Arden, it could be anything.

His eyes flash to Ashley before he speaks. “I was officially cleared. I’m no longer a suspect in Ashley’s dad’s death.”

I’m not surprised. We knew he didn’t do it. We just needed the police to figure it out.

Ashley’s attention lingers on me, a quiet anchor I can’t ignore, but the others launch into their plans for food and drinks, the conversation shifting away from me and Rhys. We’re still the centre of the spectacle but with less intensity.

The group settles in, and I try to focus on the chatter around me, anything to drown out the steady thrum of panic. Menus are divided, quick arguments over what food and drinks to order.

Somehow, I find myself squished between Yasmin and Chase, with Ella perched at the end, the three of them already bantering about how many plates of chips we’ll need.

Across from me, Arden and Ashley have managed to fit chairs between our booth and the next table, which makes Rhys look even less impressed about the invasion. He stares at them with narrowed eyes, like he’s still plotting his escape.

Ashley stays quiet, her eyes catching mine briefly across the table. She doesn’t say anything, but the question from before hangs in the air between us, unspoken but hovering. I force a casual laugh at one of Chase’s jokes, trying to make it sound natural.

Arden and Ella are arguing about what counts as a reasonable amount of cheese, and I take another sip of my drink, the cold liquid barely making a dent in the heat still creeping up my neck. The dizziness has passed, but my heart won’t slow down, no matter how desperately I try to project normalcy. It feels like someone hit the fast-forward button on my internal panic meter.

Finally, when food is ordered, and the others are distracted, Ashley leans in, voice quiet. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.” It’s flimsy, but it’s all I’ve got.

She doesn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

“Ash,” I say, forcing a lightness into my tone, “I’m fine.”

She studies me for another second before nodding, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

And honestly?

I don’t blame her.

Because for the first time, I’m not sure I believe myself either.

Rhys looks at me, his curiosity mingled with something else, something closer to concern.