“Guess who?” Medea stage-whispered.
“No,” Bryn replied, angry at how difficult it was for him to catch his breath.
“Spoilsport.” Medea let go of Bryn’s face and linked her arm through his. She wore a skintight black outfit. It would be a stretch to call it a gown. “Who’s your friend?”
“Ellis,” he said, offering his hand. “Ellis Parker.”
Medea whirled on Bryn. “TheEllis?”
“Oh God,” Bryn muttered.
“I’m a ‘the’?” Ellis joked.
“Are you two here together?” Medea asked a split second before she answered herself. “You’re not here together.”
“No, we’re—” Ellis began.
“Don’t bother. She’s not going to listen to us.” Bryn downed the rest of his drink. Now the edges of the room were so blurry he couldn’t tell where Jared might be lurking. Life was so much better that way. He held his glass out to the bartender again, who refilled it.
“Hey,” Medea scolded, catching the glass and putting it down. “How many is that?”