Hannah
Dinner was every bit as awkward and tension-filled as I had anticipated—and then some.
Zoe sat across from me, her posture rigid and her gaze fixed resolutely on her plate as she nibbled at her food in silence. It was clear from the tight purse of her lips and the furrow in her brow that she wanted to be anywhere but here.
Why had she even accepted Drake’s invitation, I thought to myself? She could have said no.
But then again, so could we.
On my left, Noah nursed a glass of whiskey, his free hand toying with the silverware in a way that made the metal clink sharply against the china every few minutes. His eyes kept flicking from me to Drake with thinly-veiled disdain, as though he couldn’t quite decide which one of us he despised more in that moment.
And Dra
