I can’t believe I let Tess talk me into this. I should be at home right now, eating my weight in Halloween candy and rationalizing my poor life choices. Instead I’m fighting my way through a very loud, very crowded bar, trying to find my way to the front of it.

When I left her, Tess was locked on to some poor, unsuspecting guy and Declan was pacing and snarling like a lion, looking like he was seconds away from killing anything and everything he could get his hands on and Tess was gleefully pushing every one of his buttons.

I need help.

Finally pushing my way to the bar, I hope to see Patrick or Conner. Instead, I see the last person I ever expected to see.

“Logan?” I shout over the din of music and people yelling out drink orders. “Logan Bright?”

His head pops up from the row of cocktails he’s building, finding my face in the crowd. As soon as he sees me, recognition dawns, with confusion following close behind. “Henley?” He reaches for the mixer gun and shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”

I could ask him the same thing. Logan had just graduated from Trinity when I moved to New York, but he was known as the guy who could find things. Anything you wanted. I always liked him. He wasn’t like the rest of the pretty, privileged people in our social circle. He was real, despite the fact that his brother is one of the richest men on the planet. He disappeared a few years ago without so much as a see you later. The fact that I’ve run into him tending bar in Boston shouldn’t surprise me half as much as it does.

“I—never mind.” I aim a look over my shoulder in the direction of the table I left Tess at. I can’t see it through the solid wall of drunk, sweaty people surrounding me but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s happening. “Is Conner around?” When he shakes his head, I start to panic. “Patrick?”

Logan hands over the drink and moves to the taps. “Patrick is around the corner, running shots and cocktails. Con took off about ten minutes ago. Just saw him going that way.” He gives his head a quick jog to the left, toward the bathrooms. “Had some chick thrown over his shoulder. What are you supposed to be? School teacher?”

Panic gives way to full-blown nausea.

What did you think was going to happen? You told him you didn’t want him anymore. Did you honestly think someone like Conner Gilroy would simply wait for you to… what? Change your mind again?

I look down at the get-up Tess pried me into. A tight, fitted blouse, unbuttoned to show off the black lace bra underneath and tucked into the shortest skirt I own. A loose bun secured with a pencil, glasses hanging around my neck from a granny-chain and heels complete the outfit. “I’m a librarian.”

Logan laughs. “That makes—”

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I hear Logan call out to me. “Alright, good to see you too.”

I lift my arm and give him an absentminded wave. The simmering catastrophe that is Tess and Declan completely forgotten, I push my way through the crowd with considerably more force than I used before.

Where are you going? And what do you think you’re going to do when you get there? You asked for this. You told him you wanted to be friends and like always, Conner gave you what you asked for.

Giving a final shove, the crowd spits me out in the hallway and I stand there for a second. There’s a line for the ladies.

It’s occupied.

Of course, it is.

Then the door opens, and she tumbled out.

Kaitlyn.

She sees me. Recognizes me. She should, Conner’s introduced us twice now.

Ladies don’t make a scene.

Even as I think it, I can feel my hands tighten into fists. She opens her mouth to say something, but Conner beats her to it.

“Henley?”

I look away from her and see him standing several feet away, in the office doorway, shirtless. Jeans slung low around his hips. Tattoos on display.

My tattoos.

Every woman jammed into this hallway sees him. You’d have to be blind not to. They’re staring at him. They’re staring at us.

How many of them do you think he’s fucked?

So many that his last name is a euphemism for anonymous bathroom sex.

“Henley?” He says my name again, pushing himself out of the doorway, starting toward me.

Before he takes more than two steps I spin on my heels and start walking. Shoving myself back into the crush of bodies, I concentrate on putting as much distance between us as possible.

“Henley.” He’s shouting at me now, right behind me. “Goddamn it—” He snags my elbow and hauls me back, turning me to face him. “What’s wrong?” He pulls me close, bending his head to get a closer look at me. He looks concerned. Confused. “Are you—” He must see it on my face—what I thought. How it made me feel. What I want—because he gets that look again. The same look he got that night in his shower. The look that makes me feel like I spit on him, but before I can even begin to feel bad about it, it’s gone. Replaced with a look I’ve never seen before. One that scares the shit out of me.

“Alright then.” The hand on my elbow tightens like a vise, squeezing so hard it almost hurts. “Let’s get on with it,” he says, right before he turns and starts to move.

He’s heading for the bathroom and dragging me behind him.