(Serena)Ronan’s hands are still on my hips when I see him.James.Standing at the edge of the dance floor like a thundercloud in expensive denim, scotch in hand, fury written all over his face.His eyes are locked on me like I’m the only thing in the room, like he’s not sure whether he wants to pull me close or set the whole place on fire.For a moment, I freeze.I forget the beat. Forget the music. Forget the crowd pulsing around us.All I see is him.And I almost go to him.Almost push past Ronan and explain everything, it’s just dancing, that I understand a media beat up, that Savannah and Margot set him up, that I believe him.But then I see it.The accusation in his eyes. The judgment. He’s on a damn floor, in front of a fire, alone with savannah…. Let’s her kiss him, and he’s mad at me?!Like he’s the one who was wronged. Like I did something unspeakable by being here, by living, by dancing, by breathing in a world that doesn’t orbit him.The fury on his face sucks the air from
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