“You guys need drinks?” I asked cheerily, reaching almost blindly for a bottle.

“We’re good.” Calla’s gaze drifted over my shoulder, and I didn’t need to look to know that Reece had exited the stockroom. I saw him within seconds, crossing the barroom floor. He dropped into the empty seat next to Cam, his profile stoic.

“You okay?” she asked, voice low and sincere.

My smile was going to split my cheeks. “Of course.”

Doubt crossed her face, and as I turned around and pushed my glasses up to my forehead, I told myself to pull it together. This was her night—­her and Jax’s. I didn’t need her worrying about me. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I probably wiped off what was left of my makeup. Oh well, didn’t matter at this point. I fixed my glasses and whirled around.

Calla, Tess and Avery stared at me.

I drew in a shallow breath that scratched at my throat and then grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it straight. “So, do you guys want to know why Hufflepuffs do it better?”

Avery grinned as she leaned forward. “Do we want to know?”

I nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes—­yes you do.”

Tess bounced once, way enthusiastic to hear my reasons for why being sorted into Hufflepuff was a good thing, and I think I fell in love with her in that moment, but Calla wasn’t fooled. She nibbled on her lower lip as she watched me refill Avery’s glass with soda. And I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over to where all the guys sat. Cam and Jax, who appeared to be on the verge of an epic bromance were deep in conversation with Jase, but the moment my gaze drifted across the table, I forgot what I was doing with the ice scoop. Holy hell, I didn’t even remember picking it up. Why was I holding it?

Reece’s eyes met mine, and the air slowly leaked out of my lungs. The intensity in his stare traveled across the distance between us. It struck me then—­why had he picked tonight to finally breach the standoff between us. Not that it really mattered, but I was curious.

I didn’t need to have any of Katie’s ability—­she was convinced that when she fell off the pole while, um, dancing and hit her head, she developed psychic power—­to know what he was thinking and what the concentrated power in his stare meant. I might have dodged him in the stockroom, but he was far from done with me.

Vibrant blue eyes, the shade of the sky seconds before dusk washed away the startling color, peered out from a thick fringe of dark brown lashes surrounded by golden hued skin. Those eyes were set in a face that still held a hint of boyish charm, but the hard line of the jaw, stubborn and dominant, and those expressive, well-­shaped lips spoke of masculinity. A beauty that could be as harsh as it was majestic.

My gaze moved over the canvas and then to the paintbrush in my hand, the ends of its bristles stained blue.