16: I know her better

16.

Ivy's POV

Dinner felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I sat stiffly at the dining table, my fingers curled into my lap, every muscle in my body coiled tight with tension. Across from me, Demi lounged in his chair like he belonged here, like this was his home, and not mine.

He had spent the last thirty minutes charming my mother, slipping into the role of the perfect boyfriend with disgusting ease. And she had fallen for it completely.

It was infuriating.

But more than that, it was terrifying.

I poked at my food, my appetite long gone. My hands felt ice-cold, but my face was burning, heat crawling up my neck as the weight of the room pressed down on me.

And then there was Brandon.

I could feel his gaze on me, quiet and heavy, like he was trying to read something from me. He had barely spoken all evening, but I could feel his anger. It lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.

My mum turned to Brandon’s dad, practically glowing with excitement.

“Baby,” she said, beaming, “Demi seated here is Ivy’s boyfriend.”

I winced at the word.

“Boyfriend?” the Alpha echoed, setting down his fork.

“Yes!” My mother gushed, completely oblivious to the way my entire body had gone rigid.

“I was just telling Demi how happy I am that Ivy finally has a boyfriend. All she ever does is study, study, study.” She shook her head like it was some tragic flaw. “It’s about time she had someone in her life.”

I wanted to sink into the floor.

Demi, of course, smiled like he had just won the damn lottery.

“She’s amazing,” he said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. “I’m lucky to have her.”

I felt sick.

“Ivy has always been too focused,” the Alpha said, his sharp gaze shifting to me. “It’s good to see her branch out.”

I forced a tight-lipped smile. I had no idea if he was actually pleased or just saying what my mother wanted to hear. But either way, it didn’t matter because I wasn’t branching out. I was fucking sinking.

Demi just laughed, shaking his head like this was all some joke, before turning his attention back to my mother.

“Ivy has been such a big help to me,” he said, voice smooth, effortless.

“She’s smart, kind, always willing to lend a hand.” He sighed, shaking his head with mock admiration. “Honestly, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Brandon’s hand tightened around his fork so hard his knuckles turned white.

I didn’t dare look at him.

I wanted to, just to see what was running through his head, to figure out why he looked seconds away from snapping the utensil in half. But I was too afraid.

Afraid of what I’d see. Afraid that if I met his gaze, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself together.

“Oh, please,” my mother said with a light chuckle, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course Ivy is helpful. She’s always been that way.”

Demi tilted his head slightly, lips curling at the edges. “Yeah, but I know her better.”

My mother raised a brow, amused. “Do you?”

“Absolutely.”

They both turned to me then, and I wanted to disappear. I could feel my heart beating too fast, my hands clenching under the table.

“Well,” my mother said playfully, completely oblivious to the way my entire body had gone rigid, “I did raise her, you know.”

Demi smirked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. “Maybe. But there are things teenagers don’t tell their parents.”

No.

A sharp spike of panic shot through me, my stomach twisting so violently I thought I might be sick right then and there.

“I bet Ivy is keeping one or two secrets that I know.”

His voice was light, casual. Sweet, even.

And no one at the table caught the threat hidden beneath it.

No one except me.

My breathing hitched, my fingers tightening around my fork.

My mother, completely unaware, chuckled. “Oh? And what secrets would those be?”

Demi’s gaze snapped to mine and I knew he was enjoying this.

Every second of it.

“Should I say?” he teased, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with amusement.

I could feel it happening. The way my throat closed up, the way my vision blurred at the edges, tunneling in on him.

I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, sitting at the dinner table with my mother and Brandon’s father, while Brandon himself remained eerily silent across from me.

And Demi knew it.

His smirk widened, dragging it out, letting the silence hang just long enough to make me suffer.

Then, at the last second, he laughed.

“I’m just joking,” he said smoothly, shaking his head, his smirk barely dimming. “I could never know her the way you do.”

The air left my lungs in a shaky rush.

My entire body sagged with relief, but the panic hadn’t gone away. It still sat there, curling at the edges of my mind like smoke, ready to suffocate me all over again.

My mother chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for her wine glass. “You had me there for a second.”

Demi just smiled, all easy charm. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I barely survived the rest of dinner.

I didn’t speak. Didn’t eat. Didn’t do anything except sit there, trapped in my own mind, replaying that moment over and over again.

****

When it was finally over, I followed Demi to the door. My pulse was still racing from earlier, my skin too warm, and my thoughts too loud.

And Demi noticed.

Of course he did.

He leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed, studying me with open amusement.

“Next time you embarrass me,” he murmured, voice low and smooth, “everyone will know your secret.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my nails pressing into my palms.

Demi reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I flinched, but he only smiled.

“Another day has been fixed for our meet-up,” he added, voice casual, like he was discussing a study session instead of my worst fucking nightmare.

He took a slow step back, watching me closely.

“You should be grateful,” he said, his smirk stretching wider. “My friends won’t be there this time.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

And I stood there, heart hammering, dread pressing down on me like something I couldn’t shake off.