“Where’s Waylon?” Ivy asks, tequila sloshing over the rim and trickling down her knuckles as she stands on her toes, eyes ping-ponging across the open space of the bar in search of her cousin.

She’s underage still, but it would seem they turn a blind eye after hours.

“Hell if I know,” Mason says, pinching a lime wedge between his fingers.

“He wandered off with some girl as soon as he jumped off stage,” Shawn says, grabbing the other remaining red shot.

“What is that?” I can’t help but wonder, ignoring what that little tidbit of information does to me.

“Red Headed Slut.”

“Minus the slut,” Mason adds.

“And the head,” Shawn finishes dryly.

So, cranberry juice.

We all laugh as we lift up our shot glasses to clink in cheers, only to be interrupted as an inked arm snakes between us and grabs the two remaining shots.

Mason curses before licking his thumb and forefinger.

“S’ry,” Waylon says, grinning wildly. Tequila spills over his fingers, on his shirt, the floor. “Couldn’t miss out on tradition.”

I don’t miss the way his words run together. Figuring the two shots were for him and the girl pressed up against him, I’m a little stunned when he raises both glasses.

“To a night to forget!” he shouts.

Mason and Ivy shoot him wary looks before tossing back their shots. I do the same, subtly watching as Waylon easily throws down both glasses, one right after the other with the barest of grimaces. The blonde crosses her arms and pouts, and Waylon rolls his eyes before diving down and kissing her sloppily.

Fucking great.

I reach around him, accidentally brushing my arm against his curved back in the process.

He tenses, breaking the wet kiss to glare over his shoulder. His lower lip is swollen and shiny with spit.

“Forgot a lime,” I murmur.

Stepping back, I pop the fruit in my mouth, sucking on the pulp. He’s still glaring at me, so I arch a questioning brow. His nose flares but he doesn’t take the bait. Pity.

Taking the girl by the hand, he shoulders past the others, making his way behind the bar. Grabbing a half-empty bottle of whiskey off the shelf, he leads the blonde past Gavin who just shakes his head.

I spit the rind in my empty shot glass.

Mason grumbles something I can’t make out before walking away, Shawn not far behind.

Feeling eyes on me, I turn. “Yes?”

“What the hell was that?”

“What the hell was what?”

Ivy narrows her eyes. “You know what.”

I force a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ivy.”