"What about Zevian?" I retorted, "I'm just here for a drink and to have some fun with a handsome young guy. What's it got to do with Zevian? Is he my dad or something?"
Winston’s face went pale as he quickly turned to Zevian, who was indeed glaring with barely contained fury. Seeing Zevian’s rage brought me an unexpected sense of relief.
I, Vespera Darkwood, wasn’t one to back down easily. If Zevian had managed to unsettle me, I certainly wouldn’t have wasted my energy protecting his pride in front of his friends.
I tilted my chin provocatively toward Zevian and said, “Right, Zevian?”
Zevian said, "Vespera, even if you're jealous, there should be a limit."
I couldn’t help but inwardly scoff. How far had I fallen that he still saw this as nothing more than jealousy and a tantrum?
A wave of exhaustion washed over me. The admiration I once felt had faded, replaced by a deep-seated disgust with every gesture he made.
I shot him with a cold glance at him and retorted, "If you’re going to fabricate stories, at least make them believable. Zevian, stay out of my life!”
“Fine,” Zevian snapped in a fit of rage. He stood up, locking eyes with me. “You said your piece. Don’t regret it.”