Free More Than the Ball by Brandon Redstone

and your hot, successful, soccer star ex-boyfriend?”
    I was glad I’d stepped away from Jemma and Elliot to make the call. I didn’t need them overhearing even half of this conversation. “He’s not my ex, and his girlfriend will be there. She’s really sweet. You’ll like her.”
    “I’m sure we’ll have a lot in common,” Jordan grumbled. “Where is this disaster waiting to happen supposed to occur?”
    “The Harwood Arms,” I said. I didn’t expect him to recognize the name, so I added, “It has a Michelin star.”
    “Of course it does,” Jordan huffed, but I could tell he was coming around. “I’ll see if I can catch a cab.”
    “Thanks, babe,” I said, exhaling in relief.
    “Yeah, yeah. See you soon.”
    That was half the battle, at least. I had no doubt Jordan would be grumpy, but at least he’d be there. I needed the support if I was going to watch Elliot and his girlfriend together all night.

    J ordan was twenty minutes late , which meant twenty minutes I had to spend trying to make nice with Jemma.
    She was sweet. Really sweet. And she seemed to really want to get to know me, which made it that much harder to be harboring lustful feelings toward her boyfriend. I avoided Elliot’s gaze as much as I could, but Jemma kept asking us about stories from college. She wanted to hear my side of all the things Elliot had told her already.
    “I was not wearing a lampshade!” I protested after Jemma recounted a story Elliot had told her about the final game of our freshman season. “It was one of those stupid cheesehead things. Nobody actually gets drunk and puts on a lampshade.”
    “Except Petey,” Jemma put in. “Remember that one, Elliot?”
    They shared a laugh that was clearly between two people who were used to sharing stories, to having been present for each other’s memorable moments. I could remember laughing like that with Elliot once upon a time, and it settled like a weight on my chest to see him sharing that with someone else now.
    They were just finishing the Petey story when Jordan finally arrived, breezing into the restaurant and dropping several shopping bags under the table. “Hello, hello,” he said with a smile that was clearly not sincere. “Sorry I’m late. I found a slew of sales on Bond Street.” He slid into the empty seat next to mine and kissed my cheek.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Jemma said. “I know how difficult those are to resist.” She offered her hand with an open, friendly smile that made me feel even worse than I already had. She was not going to find such a warm welcome from Jordan, I was sure. “I’m Jemma.”
    Jordan gripped her fingers momentarily and then released them. “Jordan. So good to meet you.” His eyes slid over to Elliot, and they narrowed slightly. “And this must be the famous Mr. Gates.”
    Elliot huffed out an awkward laugh. “I guess? Just Elliot is fine. It’s nice to meet you, Jordan. Dev’s told me a lot about you.”
    “Has he?” he asked, smirking in my direction. “I wouldn’t have thought the subject came up.”
    “Of course it did, babe,” I protested, trying to steer the conversation away from Jordan’s attempt at sabotage. “Elliot and I had a lot to fill each other in on. I wasn’t about to leave you out.”
    “Of course not, darling,” he said, his voice cloyingly patronizing. He turned his attention to Jemma, then, and I shifted nervously in my seat. “Jemma, I love your scarf. Where did you get it?”
    To my great relief, Jemma and Jordan managed to talk about shopping until the waiter arrived to take Jordan’s drink order. Elliot and I were silent the whole time, and any relief I felt quickly dissipated when Jordan ordered himself a whisky before any food was brought.
    I wasn’t sure I would survive this meal. I wasn’t sure any of us would.

    S omehow , we did indeed survive. Jordan limited himself to the one whisky and two glasses of wine. For him, that’s practically abstinence. Poor