Page 51 of The Best Worst Mistake (Off-Limits #2)

Dax, the week before law school graduation

I spot Abby entering The Club before she sees me. The Club is not, in fact, a club . It’s more like a roughed-up but well-cherished dive bar on the edge of campus.

It’s like walking into Cheer s — that pub from the eighties sitcom where everyone cheers your name when you walk in and where you go when you want to run into familiar faces, mostly fellow law students, before heading back home. Tonight is no exception. The place is packed.

“Abby!” The crowd cheers when she steps inside.

I hang back, waiting for her face to turn that familiar shade of pink, like it does each time she walks in here. She rolls her eyes then beams at the sea of our peers.

She hates the attention. So much so that I’ve seen her try to sneak in through the back emergency exit here, to avoid the embarrassing reception.

Only she set off the emergency exit alarm that night and the cheer she got reached a record-breaking volume as her face grew redder than I’d ever seen.

Since then, she goes through the front door like everyone else, embarrassment be damned.

Tonight, she’s joined by her roommate and a few guys I recognize from our Ethics in Law class. They each garner their own enthusiastic reception before getting swallowed up by the room.

To anyone watching, it’s no different from any other Friday night.

The starkly lit bar with the cracked concrete floor is packed with law students standing shoulder-to-shoulder, each doing their best to ease the stress of the past week with a few laughs fueled by cheap beer.

But to all the third-year law students here, it’s the last Friday night before we graduate, and there’s a thick layer of nostalgia creeping into each of the late-night conversations happening around me.

Tom is barely checking I.D.s by the door. He only asks from the new faces he doesn’t recognize, and I know for a fact that neither Abby nor I have been carded here in years.

She’s busy chatting with another group of students that came in just twenty minutes ago; they’re all excitement and hugs. I don’t think she’s noticed me yet and it’s kind of fun to see her make the rounds before she does.

Abby and I have never put a label on what we have, but it’d be impossible to deny that things have shifted between us over the last few months.

What started out as a frenzy in our first year — a rush to get to second or third base, all hands in each other’s hair and backs up against the wall — has slowed.

Now, when she kisses me it’s like she’s taking her time, tasting my lips, stealing lingering glances in between each touch, searing my eyes with hers when she pulls back to remove a shirt or any other mess of clothes left between us.

The actual act hasn’t changed, but everything else about it has.

And, unfortunately for me, it’s too late to undo the one thing Abby requested that I never let myself do with her — fall. Hard.

I try not to flinch when one of the biggest guys in the group wraps her up in a tight hug hello. Abby all but disappears into his embrace before he lets her go.

I turn back to Silas.

“Isn’t that your girl?” he asks, bumping his tub of beer into mine.

I step back, in case the mini tidal wave from inside his cup comes sloshing up and out over the side.

Silas has come to spend graduation week with me here in Michigan.

He gets a kick out of the law-student crowd and couldn’t resist a week of shenanigans before we all part ways for good.

“She’s never been my girl,” I remind him. “You know that.”

“Okay, but the way you’re gripping that cup, you might want to put a label on your relationship before that guy does.” Si tips his beer toward the guy that just gave her a hug. Now that guy’s saying something in her ear, and they both pull away from each other, laughing.

“You know why we haven’t slapped a label on it,” I tell him, glancing toward the door as another guy I recognize from Torts class walks in.

“Not really her thing.” I take a sip but barely taste it.

I might be crazy about Abby, but technically, we aren’t together.

However, that doesn’t mean that I have to enjoy seeing another guy act so friendly toward her.

“Right,” Si answers, unconvinced. He scrunches his nose but doesn’t look away from where she’s standing.

I’m about to suggest we go grab another beer from the tap when a funny look crosses his face. He nods in Abby’s direction again with a grin.

Reluctantly, I follow his gaze.

Abby’s caught sight of me and makes eye contact.

She’s grinning ear-to-ear instead of paying attention to the guy who’s still talking to her, as if she doesn’t even hear him anymore. Poor guy’s mid-sentence when she sets off across the room toward us. He has to look over his shoulder to see what she’s left their conversation for.

Me, asshole.

I chuckle and grin back at her while the rest of the room dissolves around us. It’s the longest five seconds of my life, waiting for her to push through the crowd to reach me, so I close the gap in her last three steps.

“Come here,” I say, wrapping her up in a tight hug, then I kiss the crown of her head, aching at how soon I’ll be missing the familiar scent of her shampoo. Next week at this time we’ll be three thousand miles apart.

The guy she was just talking to juts both arms out, disappointed, as if he’s just lost a match over the girl he’d set his sights on tonight.

“Sorry, bro!” Si calls out over my shoulder, grinning wickedly at him.

The guy scoffs, but turns to keep chatting with the rest of their group, fading into the steady hum of the room. Abby doesn’t even turn around.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” I tell her, pulling her closer.

She relaxes and drops her shoulders, leaning comfortably into my chest before pulling back.

“Interrupt? That?” She laughs, finally glancing back at the guy who’s not paying us any attention anymore. “Hardly. Just another guy hoping for something he can’t have.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” I say, grinning.

She swipes a hand across my chest, snorting. “Hardly.” Then her eyes shift to Silas like she’s just realized he’s here, too. “Hey! Good to see you here. How long are you in town?” she asks. They’ve met a few times when he’s come to visit me before.

Silas’ eyes dance between us. “Until the wind blows me somewhere else. I just came over from Boston for the week to see this guy while he’s still just a stone’s throw away, before he heads over to L.A.”

“You’re permanently in Boston now?” she asks. “The firm I took a job with is in New York. Maybe it’ll give this guy a reason to visit our side of the country.” She squeezes my arm. “What’s that you say about the East Coast, Dax?” She winks, grinning.

“That it’s nothing compared to the best coast,” I tell her. “Which is where you should be going.” I’ve been subtly trying to get Abby to come work in L.A. almost since the day I met her. Like Silas, I’m expected to follow in my family’s footsteps and my permanent future is on the West Coast.

“Ah yes, the palm trees,” she jokes sarcastically.

Si catches my eye and raises a brow. We both know that me wishing Abby would check out L.A. has nothing to do with palm trees versus skyscrapers.

One of Abby’s girlfriends appears behind her. “Hey, we’re all going over to Ashley’s house after this. You guys game?” she asks. Then she subtly gives Silas a full-body appraisal like he’s somehow made his way onto tonight’s dinner menu.

Abby doesn’t notice. Instead, she’s busy side-eyeing me before answering: “I think I’m going to have Dax and his friend walk me home in a bit. You guys go ahead.”

I smile. Music to my ears.

“I figured,” her friend says, grinning over at me, although I’m sure she wishes Silas was coming to Ashley’s instead. “Take good care of her, Dax!”

Silas nudges me in the ribs when Abby’s friend takes her attention away with a quick goodbye hug.

“Are you guys ready to get out of here?” Si asks as the friend pushes her way back through the crowd.

“This place is getting tight and I’m beat.

I was just planning on heading back to my hotel .

. .” He trails off, grinning at us like a damn monkey.

I’m tempted to whack him in the gut for being so obvious.

“Walk me home?” Abby asks. And then she gives me a smile. That smile. The one I’ve come to live for.

The three of us walk outside toward the curb, though it takes a bit longer than usual with all the hugs and hellos we get from everyone squeezed in between us and the door. I’m ready to be done with law school, but I’m going to miss a lot of the people jammed into this room.

Mostly one in particular.

“Hey, it was good to see you, Abs,” Si says when his Uber pulls up. He wraps her up in a quick hug goodbye, adding, “Since you two don’t want a ride back, maybe I’ll see you around for breakfast?”

Abby flushes. This time, I do whack him in the gut — but gently enough that he only cracks into a playful grin that’s completely on-brand for him. Abby giggles.

“Kidding,” he adds, opening the car door. “But once you’re in New York, you’ll have to come up to Boston to meet up with this guy when he flies over to visit. Grant and Jules are up there too. You’d love Jules.”

Silas climbs into his Uber and heads off toward his hotel, waving out the window, leaving just the two of us to walk the few blocks back to the off-campus apartment complex we both live in.

I have a love–hate relationship with my apartment’s proximity to Abby’s. It’s easy to meet up in the evening, but way too convenient for her to skitter back home before falling asleep at my place. Just once, I’d love to wake up next to her as the sun comes up.

We set off down the sidewalk. It’s gorgeous out. Not even cool enough for a coat now that it’s almost June.

“I can’t believe we have less than a week left here,” she says. “I’m really going to miss you.”