Chapter 130: Madeline
I’m still tingling.
From Jake’s hands. His voice. The way his eyes never left me when I talked, when I laughed, when I sipped my drink.
And the way he turned that woman down—the gorgeous one, with the legs, the hair, the kind of confidence that usually makes men forget their own names. She offered herself to him on a silver platter, and he didn’t even blink. Just brushed her off like it was nothing, like the only person in the room worth looking at was me.
It shouldn’t make me feel this warm. But it does.
I make my way through the crowd again, smiling at people who pass, searching for familiar faces until I spot Charlie and Liam. They’re laughing, flushed from dancing. “We’re getting water and another drink!” Charlie shouts over the music, waving before disappearing toward the bar. I nod, still smiling, and turn back toward the bench we were sitting on earlier.
Finn’s there, slumped over and catching his breath. When he sees me, his whole face lights up. “There she is!” he says, patting the seat next to him. I smile and sit down, brushing a bit of dust off my dress.
“How do you still have energy?” I ask, laughing. “You ran, swam, played football, danced—”
He winks. “I never run out of energy.”
That makes me giggle, because, well, it’s Finn. Always loud, always teasing, always moving.
We sit like that for a minute, listening to the music thump through the floor, watching people dance. Then, out of nowhere, Finn turns toward me and takes my hand.
I blink down at our hands, then at him. “What are you doing?”
He smells faintly of beer and salt, and his cheeks are pink.
“You’re a great girl,” he says, voice lower now. “I’m really glad you came to Northhaven.”
I smile, soft, a little confused. “Thanks, Finn. I’m, uh, glad I came too.”
But then his eyes drop to my mouth, and the air shifts. He’s looking at me differently now—like he’s been holding something back. His thumb grazes my bottom lip, slow, deliberate.
“Finn,” I start, my voice tight, nervous. “What are you—are you drunk?”
He gives a little shrug. “Maybe. But I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”
“Do wha—”
Before I can finish, his hands come up to cradle my face, and his mouth is on mine.
It’s not rough, not forceful, just… unexpected. Too warm. A little sloppy. My eyes stay wide open, because I can’t believe this is happening. I put my palms flat against his chest and try to pull back, but he’s still kissing me, soft and clumsy.
“Finn—” I manage when he pulls back half an inch, breathless.
“Madeline—”
“Wait, Finn, I don’t thi—”
“What the actual fuck?”
Sloane’s voice slices through the music like a whip.
We both turn. She’s standing a few feet away, eyes blazing, hands clenched at her sides. And beside her—towering, silent, furious—is Reid.
The look on his face could level a city.
Finn doesn’t even flinch.
He just keeps sitting there, calm as anything, his hand still on my arm like nothing just happened.
“Finn,” I whisper, shaking my head, but he doesn’t move. His thumb is rubbing slow, lazy circles against my skin—almost possessive—and my heart is beating so loud it hurts.
I pull my arm back hard, stepping away from him, from all of them. “Okay—um, I don’t… I don’t know what just happened here, but—” My voice shakes, and it's like I can feel every set of eyes in the room on me. “Finn, I think you got the wrong idea. I’m not… I don’t…” The words trip over each other, tangled. I can’t get them out.
Sloane’s already moving toward me, fury blazing across her face, her boots hitting the floor like gunshots. She stops inches from me, close enough that I can smell the vodka on her breath and the salt still clinging to her skin.
“I’ll tell you what the fuck happened,” she spits. Her voice is low but sharp enough to cut glass. “You came here and wrecked everything. You got him hooked on your finger and you’re playing him.”
My mouth falls open. “What—no! No, I never—” I shake my head, hands up, backing away. “That’s not—Sloane, that’s not what this is. I never meant to make it look like that. We’re just—” I gesture toward Finn, desperate. “We’re friends! He’s drunk, he’s not—he’s not thinking straight.”
Sloane’s face twists. Her hand tightens into a fist at her side, her whole body trembling like she’s fighting the urge to throw it.
Finn still says nothing.
Reid says nothing.
And that silence—the weight of it—makes it all so much worse.
“I—excuse me,” I choke out, voice breaking. I can’t breathe, can’t stand the way they’re all looking at me.
So I turn and run.
Through the crowd, through the noise and the lights, down the narrow hallway. My chest is tight, my throat burning, my heart pounding in my ears.
I push the bathroom door open, stumble inside, and lock it behind me.
Then I grip the edge of the sink with both hands and stare at myself in the mirror—flushed, wild-eyed, shaking—and try to figure out how everything just went so horribly, horribly wrong.
I can still feel Finn’s mouth on mine, the damp heat of it, and my stomach twists so violently I almost gag.
Why would he do that?
He drank, sure. He drank a lot. But Finn is—Finn. Always light, always teasing, never crossing a line. He’s flirted before, but harmlessly, like everyone here. He’s never—God, he’s never done that.
My chest hurts. I press a hand over it and try to breathe, but it only comes in shaky bursts.
And Sloane—why was she that angry? She’s hated me since day one, I know that, but that… that was something else. That wasn’t just irritation or anger. That was like she’d been waiting for me to slip up, waiting for me to give her a reason to explode.
The way she stepped toward me—
The way her fist clenched—
If I hadn’t left, I honestly think she might have hit me.
And then Reid.
I close my eyes, exhale, but that only makes it worse because now all I see is his face. The way he looked at Finn. The way his jaw locked. The way his eyes—those soft brown eyes—went dark. Like he could’ve killed someone right then and there.
And the way he looked at me.
Not with hate. Not exactly. But with something unreadable, sharp, hot, furious. Like he didn’t know whether to protect me or walk away from the wreck entirely.
I shake my head, whispering to myself, “I’m so screwed.”
This is it, right? The moment everything comes crashing down.
Finn kissed me, Sloane hates me, Reid looks ready to murder someone, and Jake—God, what if Jake saw? What if Reid tells him before I can even explain?
They’ll think I caused drama, that I stirred something up between their crew. That I’m the problem.
I blink back tears, hating myself for it, but they come anyway—quiet, hot, fast.
“I’m going to get fired,” I whisper.
And it feels true. Every word of it.