A Little Secret (The Little Things #4)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

FINLEY

I send a text to my friends’ group chat, telling them I need a girls’ night, and because they’re amazing, they get the ball moving. Ophelia’s already waiting with our drinks when we head inside SeaBird. It’s an amazing bar close to LAU and one of my favorite places to hang out. It has well-priced drinks, good food, awesome music, and just enough notoriety to bring in fresh faces every time we come. It doesn’t hurt they got rid of the flashing lights a few years after my mom graduated, so I don’t have to worry about my epilepsy being triggered, either. Reeves got all of us fake IDs after I mentioned how impressed I was with the one he’d given Dylan when they first started seeing each other. And even though I don’t drink and only use the thing to gain entrance to bars, it’s come in handy more times than I can count, and tonight is no different. Ophelia, on the other hand, has no issue using hers to get alcoholic beverages, though she’s never had an issue keeping things in check. She has a fruity drink in front of her, along with two more matching beverages and what looks like a Diet Coke beside them. Yes, the girl knows me well.

When she sees us, she stands from her barstool and waves. “Hey!” Ophelia passes around hugs like they’re confetti, then offers each of us a drink, mine being the Diet Coke with zero alcohol. “PS—Maverick says he should get a free shot to Drew’s balls since we’re ditching him tonight.”

I laugh at the mention of her boyfriend’s name and his lack of invitation, answering, “Nope. Drew’s balls are mine to squeeze or caress, thank you very much.”

“Caress?” Dylan snorts. “Ew.”

“Hey, no kink-shaming,” Ophelia quips. “Whatever floats your boat. Right, Fin?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hum as I take a long sip of Diet Coke. “Though there will be no caressing anytime soon, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Are you gonna tell us what happened?” Raine prods. She’s the newest member of the group. The only girl I haven’t known for years. I like her, though. She’s good for my brother even if they aren’t official…yet. No, instead, they’re pretending to be dating in hopes of keeping her abusive ex away from her. By some miracle, it’s working. If it wasn’t, there’s no way I would’ve brought her here without my brother or any of his friends for backup. I might be brash, but I’m not stupid.

Even so, her question makes me roll my eyes. Part of me wants to pretend my fight with Drew never happened. That everything is great, grand, and wonderful when it couldn't be further from it.

I could use their advice, though. Even if the entire situation makes me feel…stupid. Her question rings in my mind again as I weigh the pros and cons. Am I gonna tell them what happened ?

“Not until everyone’s had at least three drinks so they don’t judge me too harshly,” I decide.

“You sure you’ll even remember the story at that point?” Raine teases.

It’s funny. How an off-hand joke can be such a stark reminder of our lack of history and how little she really knows about me. I smile around my straw. “I don’t drink, so I think I’ll be fine.”

Her brows jump. “You don’t drink?”

“Nope.”

“Good for you.”

“Meh. Don’t be too impressed.” I lift my glass and head toward one of the open booths as the rest of the group trails behind. Once we’re all settled, I add, “I have epilepsy, and alcohol can be a trigger, so…yay me.”

Tilting her head, Raine looks at me again with newfound curiosity. I guess I understand why she’s so confused. Most people don’t talk about neurological diseases as openly as I do. And maybe I wouldn’t either if my mom hadn’t been such an amazing example. She also has epilepsy and taught me to embrace it instead of sticking my head in the sand like she did for years until she met my dad and he helped her understand it’s okay. It’s okay to have epilepsy. To know your limits and accept them instead of pushing yourself to do more than you’re capable of or to pretend it doesn’t exist in hopes of making those around you more comfortable. Yeah, I have my dad to thank, too. Want to talk about a fantastic support system? Those two have mastered the craft. And so, even though epilepsy has an ugly side, I’ve accepted its part in my life. The good. The bad. And the downright ugly.

“You have epilepsy?” Raine asks.

With a syrupy sweet smile, I confirm, “Yup.”

“I had no idea. ”

“Most people don’t.” I shrug and take another sip of my Diet Coke. “Usually, it’s not a big deal, but if I decide to drop to the ground and start convulsing, maybe call my brother.”

A surprised laugh slips out of her, and she shakes her head. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

I grin back at her. “You’re a peach.”

Looking at Ophelia, Raine hooks her thumb toward me. “Does she always talk this candidly?”

Ophelia leans closer and drops her voice as if we’re discussing conspiracy theories. “You have no idea. Speaking of which,”—she clears her throat and palms her glass, giving me a pointed look—“I’m ready for all the reasons why we hate Drew.”

And just like that, my amusement dissipates, and I stare at the caramel-colored liquid in my glass.

“Only I’m allowed to hate Drew,” I defend. “Because on the off-chance I don’t rip his balls off and decide to marry him, I still need you ladies to be my bridesmaids one day.”

“We’ll be your bridesmaids regardless of who the groom is,” Dylan chimes in. “Now, what happened?”

Digging through my purse, I take my phone out, unlock the screen, then slap it on the table. “A girl tagged him on Instagram.”

They all lean closer to look at the photo, but I don’t. I only stare at my glass, well aware of what they see.

Ophelia and Dylan share a grimace as Ophelia pushes the phone back to me.

“Did you ask him about it?” Dylan questions.

“Yes,” I huff. “He swears they’re only friends, and maybe they are, but…”

“But something feels wrong,” Raine finishes for me.

Swirling the straw in my drink, I nod slowly. “Yeah. And I don’t know if it’s in my head or if it’s real, but when I asked if he wanted to take a break, he got pissed at me for even mentioning it, promising he loves me and only me, and he’s been nothing but loyal the entire time we’ve been together, and it would be nice if I could show some trust instead of freaking out over nothing.”

Ophelia gasps. “He said all that?”

“Yup.” I bring the straw to my lips and steal another long drink of Diet Coke.

Lia’s lips bunch as she watches me from across the table while Raine asks, “Do you believe him?”

It’s a good question. One I’ve asked myself a thousand times since hanging up the phone this morning, er, afternoon.

“I want to believe him,” I murmur, hating how much truth and vulnerability lie in the simple sentence. “I mean, he’s been busy, but I’ve been busy, too, you know? I’m not stupid. I know a relationship goes both ways.” I hesitate, and my face scrunches. “God, and then he accused me of having feelings for Griffin. Can you believe it? He said if I can post pictures of me and Griff, he should be able to post pictures of him and his”—I lift my hands and do air quotes—“ friend without feeling like I’ll jump down his throat. And then, I’m like…yeah. He’s got a point, you know? I hate when he gets all weird and jealous whenever I talk about me and Griff, but we’ve been friends for forever, so it’s not like I can just…cut him out.”

“Is Drew asking you to cut my brother out of your life?” Dylan demands.

My expression falls, and I twirl the straw in my glass again, unable to meet Dylan’s gaze. I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want her to lose respect for me or Drew. I don’t want to deal with any of this, if I’m being honest. Griffin is her brother. Of course she’s going to be pissed at me for even considering Drew’s request. If Reeves, Dylan’s boyfriend, asked her to cut Everett off, I’d backhand him for being a controlling asshole. Yet, here I am, allowing Drew to do the exact same thing. “Maybe.”

“You can’t do that,” Dylan pushes. “You guys live together, he’s like family?—”

“I know.” I sigh, pick my phone up again, and check the screen despite my best intentions. Yup. There he is. Looking right as rain next to a girl who isn’t me. I set my phone back on the table, my stomach churning. “And I also know I’m done thinking about all of this. Someone take my phone. Actually, someone take all the phones.”

I push my cell into the center of the table, and the rest of the girls follow suit.

With a smile, Ophelia opens her clutch, confirms the phones are on silent, slips them inside, and closes it up. “There.”

“Thank you.” I smile at Ophelia and take a deep breath. “Now…what do you say we dance?”

I’m not sure how long it’s been since we walked onto the dance floor, but Ophelia and Dylan are bombed, and Raine looks pretty buzzed as well. Tipping her head back, she belts out the lyrics to the song blaring from the speakers, and I join in, singing at the top of my lungs. The words probably shouldn’t resonate as well as they do, but hey. At the moment, I hate guys as much as the next girl, so sue me. Clutching her stomach, Raine cackles at my dance moves when someone slips in behind her.

“Hey, pretty girl,” the stranger says.

“Yo,” I snap. “We’re having a girls’ night, can’t you tell? Now, get outta here! ”

“Aw, come on,” he replies. “We’re only here to dance. Promise.”

Gag.

Boys and their promises.

“Uh-huh, and I’m the queen of England, now, if you’ll excuse us.” I reach for Raine’s arm, then grab a stumbling Dylan with my opposite hand, leading us to a different spot as Ophelia trails behind. The song changes to something less I hate men and more love is great, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Baloney.

Shaking it off, I sway my hips, grateful the guy didn’t follow us as I get back in my groove.

Groove?

Blah. I sound like my mom.

“Hey, pretty lady,” someone says behind me.

A pair of hands find my hips, and I peek over my shoulder. Tall. Broad shoulders. Round face. Gages. I’d give him a solid four out of ten on the attractive scale. Not that it matters. I couldn’t be less interested in the opposite sex if I tried, and the fact that he’s touching me? That he thinks he’s allowed to touch me? I should knee him in the balls right here. Right now. Add to the fact he used the same hey pretty something as the guy from five minutes ago, and it makes the whole situation even less genuine and more cringy.

“Seriously?” My nose scrunches. “Is that like a new pickup line or something?”

The guy’s brows furrow. “Huh?”

“Never mind. Now, if you could skedaddle so I can have my girls’ night, that would be great.”

“Aw, come on. My buddies and I just wanna dance.”

“Buddies?” I challenge.

He tilts his head toward the same guys from two minutes ago who have somehow managed to create a half-circle around us, their eyes eager and their mouths practically salivating at the prospect of letting them dance with us.

“I’m sorry. Do you not speak English?” I twist in the stranger’s grasp and jab my finger against his chest. “I’m. Not. Interested.”

His mouth lifts. “You’re feisty. I like it.”

“You know what else you’re gonna like?” I ask. “My knee to your balls if you don’t take your hands?—”

“Hey, Pickles!” someone calls.

I glance across the dance floor, finding Reeves, Dylan’s boyfriend, flanked by Everett, Griffin, and Maverick.

Well, what do you know?

If Dylan’s surprised to see her boyfriend here, she doesn’t show it. With a smile, she returns, “Hey, Ollie. Perfect timing.” She turns to the guys bugging us. “Have you met my boyfriend, Ollie?”

“Nah, I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure yet,” Reeves states as he moves in even closer.

“Lucky man,” one of the strangers offers to Reeves, perusing the rest of the girls like he can have his pick.

Ha! Not a chance, dipshit.

When his gaze lands on Ophelia, Mav steps around Reeves, and Lia darts toward him like a bunny on crack, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him. “You’ve been here the whole time, haven’t you?”

“Looks like I’ve been caught red-handed,” he confirms.

Butthead.

I asked for one girls’ night, yet here he is, stalking his other half like a lovesick puppy.

Pathetic.

Adorable but pathetic .

Oh, who am I kidding? Why does everyone have such a cute relationship except me?

“I knew that was your bike in the parking lot!” Ophelia adds with a squeal.

Mav chuckles dryly. “You really thought I’d let you come here by yourself without me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She kisses him again as the stranger turns back to Raine. “Now, where were we?”

“You were just leaving,” she reminds him sweetly.

“You sure?” he challenges.

Her eyes lock with my brother’s over her shoulder. “Pretty positive, actually. Right, babe ?”

Babe?

Interesting.

Everett steps closer, hooks his fingers through the belt loop on her pants, and tugs Raine into him, bringing her back to his chest as he gives the stranger a death glare. “I think it’s exactly what he was doing.”

It’d be cute if he wasn’t my brother.

To be fair, I always knew he’d be an awesome boyfriend. Even if the title is fake for the time being.

“Another one bites the dust,” the last dumbass taunts, but he doesn’t give me an inch. If anything in his grip on my waist tightens. “And then there was one.”

“Wrong again, buddy,” Griffin says. “This one’s taken, too.”

I stare at Griff, my tongue growing a bajillion times its size as I take in his lopsided grin and easy stance. Like he couldn’t be less intimidated even if he tried. The red fabric of his shirt stretches around his biceps and chest. White-washed jeans hang low on his hips. He looks like the boy next door. Effortlessly sexy with all the time in the world. When I realize I’m most definitely checking him out, my cheeks heat, and I tug my long, black hair over one shoulder. I mean, I’m a red-blooded human with eyeballs. How can I not notice he’s sexy as hell? Especially when he goes into fix-it mode with a side of cocky. Like, hello. He’s talented. Respectful. Easy-going. And we’ve played this game so many times. Where he swoops in to play the heroic boyfriend anytime a guy is too handsy or direct. It’s never meant anything. Only an easy out. But it feels wrong this time. Like I’m betraying Drew by playing along.

Am I betraying Drew by playing along?

I don’t…I don’t know. And I hate how I don’t know.

Why’d you have to get in my head, Drew? Why’d you have to make me do this?

Even though it kills me, I shift away from the stranger but keep my distance from Griffin, too.

“Griffin’s right,” I announce. “My boyfriend might not be at LAU, but he would care if he knew anyone here was trying to dance with me.”

“It’s only a dance,” the stranger argues.

“Then I’m sure you can find a different partner.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and avoid Griffin’s astute stare on the side of my face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Then, I get the hell out of there.