You didn’t get jealous. Okay—maybe you did, but usually you hid it well. Tonight, though, not so much.

Nat dragged you to some stupid party, and the moment you walked in you went searching for Shauna, knowing Jackie had brought her. Luckily, she had.

Your smile came instantly when you spotted Shauna leaning against the counter, scanning for something to drink.

“Shipman!” you called, sliding up beside her, your hip brushing hers. She shifted her gaze from the bottles to you, murmuring a small hello.

“Let me make you something?” you offered. She hesitated, then nodded, accepting the drink you threw together from whatever alcohol and Pepsi you found. And she ended up liking it.

“Nat dragged you here?” she asked, eyes flicking over you. You nodded.

“Jackie dragged you?” you countered. And this time she nodded.

You couldn’t help staring as she turned to look around the room. Her profile caught the light, and your lips parted without you realizing. Your pupils dilated; you swallowed, jaw tightening as you took a sip of your drink.

She looked back at you just as someone shouted your name from across the room. You turned, and she inhaled sharply, gripping her cup a little too tight.

Then the team crowded between you, separating you both. Even so, your eyes still found her—only to realize Randy Walsh’s eyes had, too. Your jaw locked. Your hand tightened around your glass as you watched him wander over and start talking to her. She already looked bored. You looked away, deciding getting drunk was absolutely the solution.

It wasn’t.

Somewhere in the blur of music and alcohol, you found yourself back to her, sliding an arm around her shoulders and pressing your body to her back. She tensed, then relaxed once she realized it was you, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. Before she could speak, you beat her to it.

“What’s the deal with you and Randy?” you slurred, clearly tipsy. She frowned, then let out a soft laugh.

“Nothing. I don’t like him,” she said, sipping her drink.

“But he likes you,” you mumbled, hiccuping. “And not in a friendly way.”

Shauna turned fully toward you, and when you stumbled her hand reached for your arm—well, whatever part of it she could grab—to steady you. “You’re drunk,” she muttered, before guiding you away from the crowd.

She helped you into an empty bedroom and eased you onto the bed, closing the door behind her.

You groaned but didn’t fight her, looking up at her with bleary, teary, puppy eyes as she stepped between your knees. She swallowed hard at the sight of you, her heartbeat picking up. Her hand lifted to fix your messy hair almost without thinking.

“He likes you,” you repeated weakly, head tilting.

“Well, I don’t like him,” she whispered, her eyes locked on yours.