Jenny
“You’re glaring again,” Kelly said, popping up with a half-empty glass of beer. “Ease up, Jenny. She’s not gonna ditch him to come dance with you.”
I was wiping down the folding table, the backyard thinning out as guests drifted to the dance floor—a Bluetooth speaker blaring some pop song by Dua Lipa. Tara was there, swaying with Ethan. My chest ached as I watched them, my hands itching for another shot. I had kept it cool so far, but the night was wearing me out.
“Wouldn’t put it past her,” I muttered, tossing the rag aside. “She’s been eyeballing me all night.”
Kelly snorted. “You wish. She’s just freaked you’re here as would any normal person be. Don't delude yourself and give meanings into what is not.”
“It's a bit late for that,” I said, pouring myself a whiskey. “She’s not
