He wasn’t angry at me.
But he was angry.
“Hey, George,” Chris laughed, still holding a strand of my hair between his fingers. “Didn’t know you two were that close. Your girl is...”
“She’s not your concern.”
George stepped forward, posture straight, controlled and terrifyingly calm. “Let go.”
Chris lifted both hands in mock surrender. “Relax, man. It was just a joke.”
“Touching her isn’t a joke,” George said, voice low but steady. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
The conversations around us thinned. People pretended not to look, but they were absolutely looking.
Heat rushed up my neck. I didn’t want a scene. Not on his birthday.
Chris muttered something under his breath and slipped into the crowd.
When he was finally gone, I touched George’s arm gently. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
But
