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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALLY

Grumpy’s is alive tonight.

Not just busy—but buzzing.

There’s music humming from the speakers, the low din of conversation blending with clinking glasses and occasional bursts of laughter.

It’s the kind of night that invites trouble; the kind that lets your guard drop just far enough to make stupid choices look romantic.

Or reckless.

Or both.

The kind of night that feels like maybe, just maybe, anything could happen.

But I’m not focused on the crowd or the noise or even the warm buzz of tequila in my blood.

I’m focused on him.

Rhys.

He’s beside me in the booth, his arm stretched lazily across the back of the seat, fingers barely brushing my shoulder. His thigh presses against mine, solid and steady, like a quiet reminder that he’s there—close enough to lean into if I dared.

He’s never sat this close before. Or maybe he always has, and I just didn’t let myself notice.

But now?

Now, I can’t not notice.

I’m on edge; even the slightest movements from him, like his twitching fingers or his furtive glances, set my nerves ablaze.

There’s something electric between us tonight, something charged and unsaid and brimming just beneath the surface.

He shifts slightly, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, and I swear I forget how to breathe.

He doesn’t pull away.

Doesn’t apologise.

Just leaves them there like he’s testing the water. Like he’s waiting to see if I’ll sink or swim.

And I’m not sure which I want more.

Across the table, voices blur in and out of focus. I should be listening, laughing, contributing something halfway intelligent to the conversation. But my brain is busy cataloguing every damn thing Rhys does.

The soft rasp of his chuckle. The casual brush of his knee against mine. The heat of his palm resting just behind my neck like it belongs there.

It’s infuriating.

And addicting.

“You’re wrong,” Chase says, pulling me out of my Rhys-induced haze with a dramatic scoff. “Completely freaking wrong.”

Rhys, entirely unbothered, shrugs like he already knows how this is going to play out. “I’m right. You just hate when I prove it.”

Chase turns to me for backup, exasperated. “Ally, please. Talk some sense into your?—”

He pauses. Squints. And smirks.

“Oh. Wait. What even is he now? We can’t say ‘best friend’ anymore, can we?”

And just like that, the entire table lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

Ella’s eyebrows shoot up. Yasmin leans in like she’s about to conduct a formal investigation. Ashley just sips her drink like the smug little gremlin she is.

I glance at Rhys, silently begging for help.

He just leans back, wearing that cocky, smug, I’m-about-to-make-this-worse-on-purpose grin that makes me want to kiss him and kill him at the same time.

“Don’t,” I whisper.

“What?” he murmurs back, innocent as sin. “I’m just sitting here.”

Liar.

“I mean,” Yasmin says, eyes wide with excitement, “we all knew something was going on. But I think we need official confirmation now.”

“Exactly,” Ella agrees, nodding so hard her blonde ponytail bounces. “You two have been suspicious for weeks .”

Ashley, who has known this entire time, simply smiles. She’s thriving. Absolutely living for what’s about to go down.

“This is such a good night for me,” she says sweetly.

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “We are not doing this right now.”

“Oh,” Chase says with a grin, “but we are .”

Rhys leans in, voice low, challenging. “You know you could shut them up.”

I glance up at him, suspicious. “What do you mean, shut them up ?”

His eyes gleam with amusement. “Unless you’re scared.”

Oh, you smug bastard.

Fine.

I grip the front of his shirt, pull him towards me, and kiss him.

And everything stops.

There’s utter silence before chairs scrape the floor. Glasses clink. A fork clatters to the table. Somewhere in the distance, I think I hear someone whisper, “Holy shit.”

But all I feel is Rhys.

His lips crush against mine with the same barely controlled intensity that’s been simmering between us for weeks. His hand slides to my waist, fingers curling tightly as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

I kiss him like I have something to prove. Because I do.

I need him to stop smirking.

I need to shut him up.

And I need this.

When I pull back, breathless and entirely too aware of the stunned silence around us, I meet his eyes.

He looks dazed. And also?—

Smug.

Dammit.

“FINALLY!” Ella shrieks, throwing her hands in the air like she just won a game show.

Yasmin groans, collapsing dramatically onto Chase’s shoulder. “I told you I wasn’t imagining it.”

Chase glares across the table. “Wait—Ashley knew?!” Obviously he saw her smile.

Ashley shrugs. “Obviously.”

Chase gapes at her, betrayed. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Correct,” Ashley says, taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re dead to me,” Chase jokes, which only causes her to chuckle.

“Sorry, I was sworn to secrecy.” She shrugs, brushing Chase off.

Yasmin is practically bouncing in her seat. “Okay, but real question —how long has this been going on?”

I open my mouth. “Not that long?—”

Rhys grins, stretching like he’s about to start trouble. “What month is it again?”

I elbow him hard in the ribs. “Don’t you dare .”

Ashley looks positively delighted. “I can’t believe I don’t have to pretend anymore. Do you know how painful it was pretending not to see you two make heart eyes over cereal and coffee every morning?”

“ Painful? ” Chase repeats. “We were the ones suffering! Watching this excruciatingly slow build-up like it was a goddamn reality show with no finale! It’s been years in the making.”

Yasmin leans forward, chin in her hand, eyes locked on me like I’m some sort of rare wild animal. “So. Are you two, like… official now?”

Rhys looks at me, a question in his eyes.

My heart stutters.

Then he glances back at the table and says simply, “Do you approve?”

Ashley snorts. “No. We’re planning an intervention.”

Arden nods, deadpan. “I already have the pamphlets.”

Yasmin grins. “We just didn’t think it would take this long for you both to get your shit together. Honestly, we expected it to happen the night Arden got questioned. Sorry, Ash.” She gives Ashley a sympathetic smile.

“No need to apologise. I’ve known for a long time that Ally was the girl for Rhys. We were just stuck in a shitty situation.”

I bury my face against Rhys’s shoulder with a groan. “We are never going to live this down.”

“Nope,” Chase chirps, positively giddy. “Not a chance.”

Rhys just laughs and presses a kiss to the top of my head like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

And maybe it is.

Maybe, for all the noise and teasing and inevitable jokes coming our way—we’ll be okay.

Because in this moment, with his arm around me, surrounded by the people who’ve watched us fall in love in slow motion, I feel it.

This thing between us—it’s real.

And it’s ours .

Finally.