In bed with havoc

AVA

I was eighteen years old, drunk on cheap tequila, and about to ruin my life with the one man I should’ve never touched.

But I was getting ahead of myself.

Let me rewind to three hours earlier, when I still believed in love, loyalty, and the stupid fairy tale that good girls got happy endings.

I stood outside Tyler's apartment door, juggling a box of his favorite cupcakes and the excitement thrumming through my veins. Graduation had been that morning I had gotten to experience the cap, gown and the whole cheesy ceremony and that night, I was supposed to celebrate with my boyfriend of two years. Maybe he'd finally say he loved me. Maybe he'd kiss me the way girls in movies got kissed, like I was the only thing that mattered.

I knocked once. Then twice.

No answer.

The door was unlocked, so I pushed it open, calling his name as I stepped inside. The apartment was dim, lit only by the glow of the TV playing some action movie on mute. My heels clicked against the hardwood as I moved toward the bedroom and that was when I heard it.

A giggle. It was soft, breathy and undeniably familiar.

My heart stopped.

I pushed open the bedroom door, and the cupcakes slipped from my hands, hitting the floor in a sugary explosion of frosting and shattered dreams.

Tyler was in bed but he wasn't alone.

And the girl beneath him with her blonde hair spilling across his pillow and her lips swollen from his kisses was Jenna. My best friend since middle school. The girl who helped me pick out my prom dress. The girl who swore she would always have my back.

"Ava—" Tyler scrambled off her, eyes wide, but I was already backing away.

"Wait, please—" Jenna reached for the sheet, her face flushed with embarrassment or pleasure or maybe even triumph, I couldn't tell which

I didn’t wait. I didn’t listen to their excuses or their pathetic apologies. I just ran.

I ran until my lungs burned and my mascara streaked down my cheeks in hot, angry tears. I ran until I found myself at Murphy's, a side bar on the edge of town that didn’t check IDs too carefully.

The bartender, a grizzled man with kind eyes, poured me a shot of tequila without asking questions. I downed it. Then another and another.

The alcohol burned, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

How could they? How could he? I’d given Tyler everything from my time, to my trust, and my love. And Jenna… God, we were supposed to be sisters.

"Another," I rasped, pushing my glass forward.

The bartender hesitated. "You sure, sweetheart? You're looking a little—"

"I'm fine." My voice cracked. "Just… one more."

He sighed but poured anyway.

I didn’t know how many drinks I had. Five? Six? The room started to spin, and the pain in my chest dulled to a manageable throb. I rested my head on the sticky bar top, letting the noise of the jukebox wash over me.

At some point, the bartender’s voice cut through the fog. "I'm calling someone for you. You got an emergency contact?"

I mumbled something incoherent, and he must have found my phone because I heard him talking to someone. His words blurred together, but I caught fragments.

"…pretty messed up… yeah, Murphy's on Fifth… hurry, man."

Time lost all meaning. I closed my eyes, drifting in and out of a tequila-soaked haze, until a deep voice pulled me back to reality.

"Red."

That voice. It was low, rough and filled with authority and something I couldn’t quite name.

It sent a shiver down my spine enough to grab my attention even through the alcohol.

I lifted my head, blinking against the dim bar lights, and there he was.

Ryder Kane.

My brother’s best friend. The man I’d been hopelessly, stupidly in love with since I was fifteen years old.

He stood in the doorway, dressed in a dark suit that fit him like a second skin, his tie loosened and his jaw tight. His stormy gray eyes swept the bar until they landed on me, and something flickered in his expression—anger, concern, maybe both.

"Jesus, Ava." He crossed the room in three long strides, his presence commanding enough that the few drinkers still lingering glanced up nervously. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I tried to sit up straighter, but the world tilted sideways. "Celebrating."

"Celebrating." His voice was flat and unimpressed. He crouched in front of me close enough that I could smell his cologne. It was clean and expensive and intoxicating. "You look like you're one drink away from alcohol poisoning."

"Good." I laughed bitterly. "Maybe then I won’t have to think about—" My voice broke, and I pressed my palms against my eyes. "Tyler was screwing Jenna. In our—his bed."

Ryder went still. When I finally looked at him, his expression had darkened, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle ticking beneath his stubble.

"Say that again," he said quietly. Almost too quietly.

"You heard me." Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him and most importantly not in front of the nosy strangers looking at us. "He cheated on me with my best friend. So yeah, I'm drunk. Sue me."

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he stood, pulling out his phone. "I'm going to kill him."

"Don’t." I grabbed his wrist, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine. "He's not worth it."

Ryder stared down at me, and I saw the war raging behind his eyes. Finally, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and exhaled sharply. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

"I don’t want to go home," I whispered. "Ethan will ask questions. My parents will—"

"My place, then." He didn’t wait for my answer. He just scooped me up like I weighed nothing, one arm beneath my knees, the other around my back.

I should have protested and have told him to put me down, that I was fine, that I didn’t need rescuing.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I rested my head against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat anchor me as he carried me out into the cool night air.

Little did I know that tonight would change my whole life.