Chapter 42

Guinevere's POV

The music pulsed through the room, blending with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses, but all of it faded into the background as Reagan and I settled into our own little world. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening my nerves, or maybe it was the ease with which Reagan and I bantered, but I found myself relaxing, genuinely enjoying the conversation with him.

“I did not!” I protested, laughing as I took another sip of my drink.

Reagan leaned back, a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh, you absolutely did. If I remember correctly—and I do—you cried all night because you lost the battle with Nora.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “In my defense, I was only ten.”

He smirked, taking a slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving mine. There was something in his gaze that made me feel exposed, like he could see through the bravado to the vulnerable girl I used to be. His eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was also a depth there, something I couldn’t quite place