I set the glass back down and run my hand through my hair. I cast a look around the bar, wondering where Mason is. I’ve yet to see him since I came down. “I’m fine. So are you two going to tell me how you let Ivy convince you to drink this shit?”

“She said we had to, or it was bad juju,” Will says, all traces of concern gone. Forgotten, like it was never there.

Oh, how I miss that so.

I screw up my face. “What does that even mean?”

He looks at me like I’ve grown a second head—hell, maybe in his eyes, I have. “Football.”

I tilt my head back and groan. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Are you mad?”

Something in his tone has me dropping my chin to search his face. He looks genuinely worried I might be upset with him. I frown and start to shake my head. “What? No. Why would I be mad?”

He twiddles with his bracelet. “You’re trying to stay sober.”

I open my mouth and shut it.

Well, so much for that.

“You gave up drinking?” a new voice cuts in.

I turn to find Mason standing behind me.

“Where the hell did you come from?” I ask.

He gives a little shake of his head, brows knitted with worry as he ignores me. “What happened?”

Pressure sits heavily on my chest. “Nothing. I’m just cutting back a little. Look, can you cover for a bit? I need a smoke.”

Not waiting for his response, I ignore the set of eyes drilling into my head as I flip up the bar counter next to Will, letting myself out.

A hand shoots out to grab my bicep. I look at his hand and clench my jaw.

A glance over my shoulder shows me Mason and Jeremy deep in conversation. They aren’t paying us any attention. I let out a sigh of relief.

Will abruptly drops his hand.

I snap my attention to his face.

His mouth tightens, and I watch as a curtain seems to fall over his expression, smoothing out his features, replacing the sting of rejection I only briefly witnessed with a sad sort of acceptance. Resignation.

Mouth dry, I go to open my mouth and assure him it’s not what he thinks...except it is, isn’t it? He was touching me, a casual squeeze of the arm that any friend would do, and my gut instinct was to make sure no one was watching.

How fucking messed up is that?

I twist my mouth and look down.

“Bad night?” he whispers.

“Bad life.”

I look up through my lashes just in time to catch his wince.

“Don’t feel guilty for drinking and having fun, okay?” I mutter. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.