Chapter 6

Dr. Cullen visibly wilted under Luigi’s scorching glare, stammering an incoherent apology before practically fleeing the room.

Luigi stalked to Ariana’s bedside, his face twisted with harely contained rage: “When some random guy hits on you like that, you’re supposed to tell him you have a boyfriend. Is that so fucking hard? Or were you enjoying the attention?”

Ariana stared at him, finding his reaction darkly comical.

Just hours ago he’d sworn to his friends he’d never have feelings for her “in this lifetime,” yet here he was, bristling with jealousy like she was his prized possession. The hypocrisy was breathtaking.

When had he ever cared before? All those times she’d desperately wanted his attention, he’d been cold and distant. Now that she no longer cared, suddenly he was staking his claim? Too little, too late.

A few days after her discharge, Luigi unexpectedly suggested they attend a college reunion at The Box.

She knew he typically avoided such events, dismissing them as “pathetic nostalgia fests for people who peaked in college.” His sudden interest was transparent–this wasn’t about reconnecting with old classmates.

Sure enough, the moment they arrived, Ariana spotted Leila Brown across the room.

There she was–Miss Perfect herself. Designer dress, effortless beauty, commanding the attention of everyone around her without even trying. The woman Ariana had spent years unknowingly competing against, and losing to, all along.

On the surface, Luigi maintained a cool distance from Leila, acting as if they barely knew each other.

But Ariana recognized that look in his eyes now–the same one she’d given him for years. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, his gaze followed Leila across the room, lingering a moment too long whenever she laughed or spoke. Love was impossible to disguise, especially when it was real.

Halfway through the evening, Ariana excused herself to use the restroom.

When she returned, the gathering had devolved into a drunken game of Truth or Dare, with her former classmates sprawled across couches, drinks in hand.

Leila had just lost a round and was being pressured to answer what appeared to be an embarrassing question.

she hesitated, when suddenly Luigi stepped forward, snatching the

17:21

Revenge Pirouette:

hit for her,” he

dramatically, reading with exaggerated flair: “Who’s your ultimate sexual fantasy? Not

wolf

grinning. “But easy for you, right? It’s gotta be

much you fantasize about

spoke clearly, not looking in Ariana’s

seemed to disappear from Ariana’s lungs, her fingers

L..B. Leila Brown.

truth for days now–but hearing him announce

farce. Without a word, she turned and

she texted Luigi: “Not feeling well. Going home.”

stood at the curb, phone in hand to call an Uber, when footsteps

⠀⠀ “Ariana! Wait!”

jogging toward her, actually looking concerned.

did you leave?” she asked, genuinely confused.

looked remarkably like genuine worry: “You said you weren’t feeling well. What’s wrong? Do you need to

possible he actually cared? But then the memory of him sitting in that hospital room saying

shook her head, keeping her voice level: “I’m fine, just a headache. Shouldn’t you be back

m

obvious thing in the world. “If you’re sick and leaving, why the hell

tender it hurt. How many times had she dreamed of him caring for her like this?

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