Chapter 75

Serena's POV

The warmth of alcohol lingered on my cheeks as Eleanor and I settled into the corner of the VIP room. The rest of the party continued in full swing, but my mind kept drifting back to what had happened in the hallway with Lucas.

"So," Eleanor leaned closer, her dress catching the dim light, "what exactly did my brother do to you out there?"

"Nothing!" I answered too quickly, feeling the heat rise in my face.

She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really? Because he seems different since you both came back. He was barely touching his drink before, but now look at him." She gestured toward Lucas, who was actually engaging in conversation with Drew across the room.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but Eleanor's sharp eyes caught the slight tremor in my hand as I reached for my glass. "And what's that on his arm?" she asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Those look suspiciously like scratch marks. You know, the good-looking ones are always the best at..."

"Eleanor!" Lucas's deep voice cut through our conversation like a blade.

She jumped up with exaggerated alarm, nearly spilling her drink. "Oh! Would you look at that? I suddenly remembered where the bathroom is!" She scurried away, leaving me alone with my burning cheeks and racing heart.

Lucas moved to take her vacant seat, his presence both comforting and unnerving. The party around us had begun to wind down, the energy shifting as the clock ticked past midnight. Drew was attempting to lead another drinking game, but even his enthusiasm had started to fade.

"We should go," Lucas said softly, his voice carrying only to me.

I glanced at the others, still caught up in their revelry. "What about them?"

"They'll outlast us," he replied with a slight smile. When I hesitated, he added, "It's past midnight now. My birthday's officially over, which means I'm no longer obligated to stay."

Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. Despite the lateness of the hour, his grey eyes were clear and focused. The same eyes that had looked at me with such intensity in the hallway. I quickly pushed that thought away before my blush could deepen.

"Okay," I agreed, gathering my clutch.

As we stood to leave, I caught Eleanor watching us from across the room. She gave me an exaggerated wink that made me want to sink into the floor. But then I felt Lucas's hand, light but steady at the small of my back, guiding me toward the door. The touch was proper, barely there, yet it sent a shiver up my spine.

In that moment, I realized something had shifted between us. The carefully maintained distance that had always existed was beginning to crumble, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for what lay on the other side of that wall.

Drew's voice carried after us as we left: "Hey, birthday boy! Leaving so soon?"

"Some of us have real work tomorrow," Lucas called back, his tone carrying a friendly warning that prevented any further protest.

Eleanor's POV

I headed for the outside restroom since Drew seemed to have commandeered our private one.

That lightweight-I'd finally managed to drink him under the table tonight. Though I had to admit, I might have overdone it a bit myself.

As I stepped into the hallway, my feet suddenly faltered. The world swayed ever so slightly, reminding me that perhaps I should have paced myself better with those cocktails. The marble flooring beneath my heels seemed to stretch endlessly before me, its polished surface reflecting the dim overhead lights in a way that made me blink twice to focus.

Spencer Sherwood, looking perfectly comfortable with some blonde draped over his arm. My blood instantly boiled.

"Spencer," I said, injecting every ounce of venom I could muster into his name, "you're really living up to your reputation as a sucm."

He had the audacity to smirk. "Eleanor. Always a pleasure."

"Move," I snapped. "You're blocking my way to the restroom." The blonde-whoever she was-had the sense to look uncomfortable.

Instead of stepping aside, Spencer leaned against the wall, casual as could be. Something in me snapped. I pulled out my phone, maintaining eye contact as I dialed.

"Quinn, darling!" I practically sang into the phone when she answered. "You won't believe who I just ran into. Spencer is here, and-oh my, is one boy not enough to satisfy you? Want me to call you a high-class escort? I guarantee satisfaction!"

Spencer's face darkened. I shouldered past them both, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

The ladies' room provided a brief sanctuary. I splashed some cold water on my face, trying to calm down. The anger still simmered, but at least my hands had stopped shaking.

That's when I heard it-the unmistakable sound of retching coming from the men's room back near the VIP area. I shouldn't care. I really shouldn't. But something in the painful sound made me pause.

The party had mostly dispersed when I returned to our section. The sound came again, followed by what seemed like a stumble.

"Hello?" I called out, approaching the private bathroom attached to our room. "Anyone in there?"

A groan answered me, followed by the sight of Jace Gillard nearly face-planting as he tried to stand. I caught him just in time, surprising myself with my quick reflexes.

"Careful there," I said, softer than I'd spoken all night. This was... unexpected. Jace never drank. Everyone knew that. Yet here he was, barely able to stand.

"Eleanor?" His voice was rough, confused. "What are you..."

"Apparently saving you from cracking your skull open," I replied, but there was no bite in my words. "What happened? You never drink."

He tried to straighten up, still leaning heavily against me. "Needed to... forget something."