“Chase ... the box,” I say again, but I’m met with more silence and no action.
What the fuck?
My heart starts to beat faster than the mile a minute it’s been doing as I slowly turn my head to stare at my best friend.
“Chase,” I level. “Give me ... the box.”
His lips part, but nothing comes out. And a hollow feeling takes up space in my chest. I swear there’s ringing in my ears. My hand rubs over the same cheek he smacked.
“Where are the shoes?” I ask with the kind of calm that will only be accompanied by rage.
He winces. “I thought you were bringing them.”
I’m gonna kill him.If I wasn’t hysterical before, I might be now ... But only if “hysteria” is a synonym for “murderous.”
“I texted you, saying to get them from my house. You read the text. You gave it a thumbs-up. Are you telling me I don’t have a ring?”
He takes a step back. “What I’m telling you—mainly because that vein bulging on your neck looks dangerous and like it needs to be seen by a doctor—is that I just have to run out quickly on an errand, and I’ll be right back.”
“Motherfucker,” I hiss under my breath. “We can’t just leave the party, Chase. It’ll be obvious something’s up.”
I throw my hands in the air, but he swats them down just as quickly and shushes me. He speaks through a smile as Goldie looks over at us. “I’m sorry. Calm down. She’ll never know. I’m stealthy.”
I mimic what he’s doing and keep a smile on my face. “She will know because you run a mile in twenty.”
His face whips to mine. “Abs are against my religion, Noah. I’m a chef, remember.”
I level my gaze on him. “I’m going to stab you with your own fucking knives.”
He chuckles. “Dude, just take a shot because you’re starting to sweat. Relax. I’ll be back before the whiskey stops burning in your chest.”
“No,” I rush out, grabbing his arm. “I’ll go. I need to get my nerves in check. And it’ll give me time to go over my speech for the millionth time.”
He smirks. “You sure? Is this because you don’t trust me now?”
I nod. “Yeah. But also, if I stay, I’ll just be in my head and antsy.”
Laughter bounds from her college friends as they dance to some remix of a Kendrick Lamar song, drawing our attention.
“Just do me a favor and keep her occupied while I’m gone,” I say, starting to leave.
He pats my arm before waiting until I’m far enough away not to swing on him to say, “You’re considering ‘We’ll walk this path together,’ aren’t you?”
“No,” I say back, making my way over to my girl.
Fuck. I was.
She’s talking to the sweet couple who own the flower shop as I wrap my arms around her from behind, dropping a kiss to her cheek.
“Hey, birthday girl,” I whisper down to her.
The couple excuse themselves as Goldie turns in my arms, looking up at me.
“Hi.”
“Having fun?”
She pushes to her tiptoes to kiss my chin. “The most fun. It’s wild—this guy I’m using for sex threw me a party, but now it’s awkward because I think he really loves me.”
