Someone bumped into me from the side, an apology was muttered, but I was focused on Steph. She was holding the ball close to her breasts, grinning wickedly as Cam stalked her.

Brit took the cup from me and grabbed my hand. “Let’s dance.”

I dug my feet in, blinking at her. “I don’t dance.”

“No. We are going to dance.” She cast a look over her shoulder. Cam had somehow gotten the ball from Steph. “Because if we don’t, you’re just going to stand there and glare at them like the pissed off girlfriend.”

Shit. She had a point. I let her drag me toward a group of girls that were dancing, which was conveniently close to the ping pong table. Brit held onto my hand as she shimmied around me, singing along to the song. It took a couple of moments to work up the nerve to do another thing I hadn’t done in years and I sort of wished I’d finished off the beer.

Closing my eyes, I let myself feel the music and catch the beat. Once that happened, my hips were swaying and I was smiling. Eyes open now, I still held onto Brit’s hand as we danced together. The group around us grew larger and over Brit’s shoulder, I saw Cam.

He wasn’t paying attention to Steph.

He was watching us—watching me.

Brit was a freaking genius.

She looked behind her and then turned back to me, biting her lip. “Fuck ‘em.”

I tipped my head back and laughed. “Fuck ‘em.”

“That’s my girl.”

Jimmie joined us, coming up behind Brit, dropping his hands on her waist. I raised my brows, and she shrugged, which was code for holding off on the punching in the vagina. My hair was damp along my temples and my sweater had ridden up. The three of us were joined by Jacob, who pretty much flailed around. I was so caught up in laughing at him that when hands landed on my hips, I jumped a good five inches off the floor.

Brit’s eyes widened.

I looked over my shoulder and saw a relatively unfamiliar face. The guy’s cheeks were red, eyes slightly glazed over as he ground his hips.

“Hey,” he slurred, smiling.

“Hi.” I turned back around, making a face at Brit as I stepped forward. I made it about an inch before Drunk Guy’s grip tightened.

“Where you going?” he said. “We’re dancing.”

I twisted to the side, and the guy followed, staying at my back. My stomach dropped and a strange, shivery sensation crawled up the back of my neck, raising the tiny hairs there. Thrown back several years, I froze for a second. Brit, Jacob, the party—everything—disappeared. I felt him pull me back against him, his hands on the bare skin of my stomach. Without any warning, reality seemed to shift.

I wasn’t here.