*Ava*

“Now you’re just being mean,” I complain, poking him in the arm.

“What?” Liam asks, his fingers stilling halfway up my thigh. The delicate fabric of Emma’s dress is pushed almost up to my hips now. I want his fingers to keep going, which almost frustrates me more than his attitude.

“Calling it a date,” I remind him. “That’s mean.”

“It wasn’t a date?” Liam replies.

“Was it with you?” I ask.

Liam ...