Chapter 70 Accidentally On Purpose
Wynter's POV
As I "lost my balance," I let my knees go loose and pitched sideways, the empty glass in my hand clipping the first man's wrist.
He reached out instinctively to catch me. I pivoted on the ball of my foot and guided his momentum with a light twist of his sleeve, turning his lunge into a stumble that sent him crashing chest-first into his friend.
They tanged together awkwardly—one shin banging the stool's metal rung, the other’s diaphragm slamming the seat edge with a hollow thud that punched the air out of him.
Pain flared hot and mean along my ribs, the room tilting for a beat as spots pricked at the edges of my vision. I let the wobble ride, one hand flying to my mouth in exaggerated horror that conveniently kept me upright.
"Oh my goodness!" I exclaimed, my voice climbing into distressed innocence. "Oh no—I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy!" I pressed my hands together in front of my chest. "You two really should watch where you're standing in a crowd like this! Someone could get seriously hurt!"
I let my voice break slightly, my eyes actually welling up with tears. The first man was half-hopping as he clutched his shin, face twisted. His friend was bent over the stool, one hand pressed to his ribs as he wheezed for air.
"You—" the first man started, but I cut him off with another apologetic flutter of my hands.
"I'm just so sorry," I repeated, my voice trembling. "I really didn't see you there—the crowd is so thick and I turned around too fast and—oh gosh, do you need me to get you some ice?"
The bartender had noticed the commotion and was making his way over. I watched the two men's eyes flick toward him and then toward the growing number of people paying attention. They both seemed to realize they'd lost whatever advantage they thought they'd had.
"Just... watch where you're going," the first one finally muttered, already backing away. His friend shot me a look that was equal parts pain and resentment before they both retreated into the crowd.
The aftershock hit me then—a tremor through my muscles and a fresh spike of ache in my side. I caught the edge of the bar with my fingertips, steadying the sway in my knees as I drew a measured breath.
I was already turning back when I felt a familiar presence materialize at my back. Chase's hand found the small of my back, firm and anchoring, and then he was crowding closer, a living wall between me and where the two men had disappeared.
"Is there a problem here?" Chase asked, his voice deceptively mild, but I could feel the Alpha authority bleeding through every word. His free hand moved to rest on my hip, pulling me slightly closer to his side in a gesture that was unmistakably protective.
The bartender took one look at Chase's face and seemed to reassess the situation. "Just a misunderstanding, I think. Those two were getting a bit too friendly, but the young lady here handled it just fine." There was a note of approval in his voice.
Chase didn't answer right away. He turned to me instead, eyes scanning my face like he was checking for fractures. His palm slid from my hip to the inside of my wrist, two fingers finding my pulse. "Breathe," he murmured, low enough for me alone. "You're pale. Are you dizzy?"
"I'm fine," I said, though the word came out softer than I meant. The thud in my chest betrayed me against his fingertips.
His jaw flexed. "You shouldn't have moved like that," he said, anger threaded with worry. "You scared me."
Only then did he drag his gaze back to the crowd, watching a heartbeat longer before finally looking at me again. What I found in his expression wasn’t just concern or anger—it was something that looked almost like... awe.
His eyes were bright with an emotion I couldn't quite name, and there was a slight curve to his lips that suggested he was trying very hard not to smile.
"That was incredible," he said, shaking his head slightly. "The way you just—most people would have frozen up or started screaming. But you made them think you were this helpless little thing, let them get comfortable, and then..." He did smile then, quick and genuine. "You made it look like a complete accident while making absolutely sure they'd feel it for the next few days. Where did you learn to do that?"
I used to bite my tongue because I thought it would keep me calm; that doesn’t mean that’s all I’m going to do. But what I said was, "Just lucky timing, I guess."
Chase's expression shifted into something more serious, his thumb tracing an absent pattern against my side. "You know, if you ever run into trouble like that again—if anyone bothers you or makes you uncomfortable—you can come to me. You don't have to handle everything alone, Wynter."
Then it hit me—maybe he really was just worried I’d get pushed around. I slipped my arm through his and said softly, “Thank you. If I can’t handle it, you’ll be the first one I call. I’m not that old Wynter who just got bullied anymore.”
For a moment, Chase just looked at me, something complex and unreadable flickering across his features. Then slowly, almost reluctantly, he smiled—a real smile this time, something genuine and warm that made his whole face transform.
"Yeah," he said softly, almost to himself. "I'm starting to see that." He paused, then added, "You're not what I expected, Wynter Vaughn. Not at all."
---
When we returned to the booth, Rosalie had convinced everyone to play Truth or Dare. I slid back into my seat, and Chase settled in close enough that his thigh pressed against mine under the table.
"Okay, new game rules," Rosalie announced, her cheeks already flushed. "If you refuse to answer or do the dare, you take a penalty drink."
The first few rounds were harmless enough—Connor doing an impression of Headmaster Grey, Rosalie admitting she and her boyfriend had been on and off a few times, but their feelings were still there.
Rosalie had drifted into Connor’s lap, hands linked, sharing a quick, shameless kiss; his arm cinched tight around her waist like a claim, and he brushed a curl behind her ear, his voice low and rough as he murmured, “Mine.”
Beneath the table, his hand slid in a bold, possessive sweep to her thigh; Rosalie only laughed and pushed him away, and he smirked, unabashed. Everyone cooed like it was cute. To me, it read like territory—sugar dusted over a leash.
But then Connor turned to me with that same smirk that made my skin crawl.
"Wynter—truth or dare?"
Of course. "Truth," I said.
"If you had to pick someone at this table to be stranded on a desert island with, who would it be and why?"