Chapter 19 – A Game of Restraint (Riley's POV)

I should leave.

I should grab my keys, walk out the door, and put as much distance as possible between myself and her.

But I don't.

Instead, I stand there, gripping my drink like it's the only thing keeping me grounded, watching Ava laugh at some girl's shitty attempt at flirting.

She's putting on a show.

I know she is.

The way she leans in too close, her head tilting just enough to let the girl think she has a chance. The way she smirks, twirls a strand of hair around her finger—like she's daring me to do something about it.

And fuck, I want to.

I want to cross the room, wrap my fingers around her wrist, and pull her away. I want to press her against the nearest wall and remind her that she's mine, even if she won't admit it yet.

But I don't.

Because I'm not stupid.

This isn't just about what happened last night.

This is Ava testing me.

Waiting to see if I'll snap.

I won't give her the satisfaction.

I take a slow sip of my drink, forcing my expression into something unreadable. I act like I don't see her.

Even though I feel every single move she makes.

Even though my skin still remembers the way she felt underneath me.

Jake elbows me. "Dude, you're staring."

I blink, tearing my gaze away. "No, I'm not."

He snorts. "Right. And I don't drink too much at parties."

I roll my eyes, but I don't argue.

Because he's right.

I'm staring.

And I have been since the second she walked through the door.

I can't do this.

I shove my drink into Jake's hand and mutter something about getting some air before pushing my way toward the back door.

Ava doesn't follow.

And that pisses me off more than it should.

The cool night air doesn't do shit to calm me down.

I run a hand through my hair, my pulse still hammering from what I just saw.

Ava.

Letting some random girl touch her, laugh with her, lean in like she was actually interested.

I shouldn't care.

I shouldn't feel this sharp, biting jealousy clawing its way up my throat, but it's there, burning.

Because I know what Ava looks like when she actually wants someone.

And that wasn't it.

That was her playing games. With me.

I lean against the porch railing, gripping the wood until my knuckles turn white.

I won't give in.

I won't be the one to break first.

But fuck, when she finally comes outside—when I hear the soft click of the door behind me—I almost do.

I don't turn around.

I just listen to the sound of her footsteps, light against the porch.

For a second, I think she's coming toward me.

But then—

"Hey, Ava," someone else says, and my stomach fucking drops.

Not her.

Hannah.

The girl from inside.

The one who had her hands all over Ava like she had the right.

I exhale slowly, forcing my body to stay relaxed.

I don't care.

I don't.

But then—

Ava laughs.

It's soft. Low.

And it sounds real.

And I swear to god, it nearly undoes me.

I don't wait to hear the rest.

I push off the railing, shoving my hands into my pockets, and walk around the side of the house.

I need space.

I need to get the fuck away from her before I do something I'll regret.

I should leave.

I should walk away and pretend like this doesn't bother me.

But when I round the corner of the house, I stop. I don't keep going.

Because now, I can hear everything.

"Come on," Hannah's voice is teasing, just loud enough for me to catch every damn word. "You can't tell me you're not having fun tonight."

Ava laughs again, and it's that laugh. The one that's just a little too sweet, a little too easy. The one she does when she's playing along with something she doesn't actually care about.

I clench my jaw so hard it aches.

"Oh, I don't know," Ava says, her voice light, lilting. "Depends on what you mean by fun."

Something crashes inside my chest.

Why is she doing this?

Hannah says something else, something lower that I can't quite catch, and it makes Ava hum in response.

I know I should walk away. I know I should get in my car, drive home, and stop fucking thinking about her.

But my feet don't move.

Instead, I stand there, listening.

Every word, every sound, every breath Ava takes—it's all a fucking trap, and I walked right into it.

I hear the shift of footsteps, the slight rustle of fabric, and my stomach twists into a knot.

Is Ava letting her get closer?

Is she letting her—

Fuck this.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I push off the wall and storm back toward the porch.

If Ava wants to play this game, fine.

But she's about to find out that I don't fucking lose.

My breath is uneven, my fists clenching at my sides.

Every step back toward the porch is fueled by something I don't want to name—jealousy, frustration, something dangerously close to possession.

I shouldn't feel like this.

But I do.

The second I step back into view, I see them.

Ava's leaning against the railing, her head tilted just enough to let Hannah think she's interested. Hannah's too close—way too close.

I don't think.

I don't hesitate.

I don't fucking care.

"Ava." My voice cuts through the night, sharp and unmistakable.

She doesn't flinch.

Doesn't startle.

She just lifts her gaze to mine, her expression unreadable.

Hannah, on the other hand, glances between us, her smile faltering. "Oh—uh, hey, Riley."

I don't acknowledge her.

I don't take my eyes off Ava.

Because right now, she's the only thing that matters.

Her lips curve, just slightly. "Something wrong?"

I exhale through my nose, my pulse pounding.

This is a test.

A dare.

A challenge.

And we both know it.

I step forward, closing the distance between us. Close enough to make a point.

"Didn't think you liked crowds," I say, my voice lower, quieter.

Ava's smile doesn't waver. But her eyes flicker.

"I don't," she murmurs. "But sometimes, they're useful."

I know what she's doing.

And I hate that it's working.

Hannah shifts beside her, awkward now, like she can feel something happening that she was never a part of.

"I should, uh… go grab another drink," Hannah says hesitantly.

Neither of us stop her.

We just stand there, locked in place, waiting to see who will move first.

Ava's watching me, her head tilted slightly, a glimmer of something sharp in her eyes.

She's waiting.

For me to react.

For me to break.

And fuck, I'm close.

I take another step toward her, closing the space Hannah just abandoned, my body humming with something I don't want to name.

"What game are you playing, Ava?" My voice is lower now, more controlled than I feel.

She exhales a quiet laugh, but it's not her usual one—it's softer, almost careful.

"No game, Riley," she murmurs. "Just… options."

Options.

That word nearly makes me see red.

My jaw clenches, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

"You think she was an option?" I ask, nodding toward the direction Hannah walked off.

Ava shrugs, her expression unreadable. "She could have been."

Liar.

I step even closer, my breath ghosting against her skin now. "Then why didn't you let her kiss you?"

Something flickers in her eyes.

I've got her now.

Ava holds my gaze, and for the first time tonight, she doesn't have a quick comeback.

I should stop.

I should walk away.

But I don't.

Because I'm done pretending this tension between us isn't real.

I reach out, my fingers barely brushing against the fabric of her sleeve, a touch so light it shouldn't mean anything.

But it does.

Ava shivers.

Just barely, but I feel it.

I see it.

And then—

She steps back.

The air between us snaps like a broken wire, tension fraying at the edges.

"I should go inside," she says, voice quieter now.

I let her go.

For now.

But this isn't over.

And we both fucking know it.