Page 13 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

He stared at me, lifting his hand, and I waited for him to tug my hair or pour another glass of champagne on me, but surprisingly he did neither of those.

Instead, he gently wiped the frosting from my eye and I blinked at him.

Liam James was acting like a decent human being in my vicinity?

The moment shattered when Diya appeared at my elbow, her perfect face arranged in concern. “Dee, are you okay? Do you need to⁠—”

I pulled away from her touch. “Don’t fucking touch me,” I said, my words coming out sharper than I intended.

Diya looked taken aback, but her knight in shining armor appeared beside her with an arm on her waist, glaring at me. The same eyes used to look at me full of love.

How quickly did his so-called love dissolve into nothing?

“Let’s go, darling,” Marcus whispered in my ear, taking my hand and dragging me away from the uncomfortable situation.

I was grateful to him. And as we went to the nearest washroom, I could feel the warmth of someone looking at me. Thinking it was Yash or Diya, I turned around and found Liam’s eyes staring at my hand that was holding Marcus’.

Catching my eye, Liam said, “Real mature, Sharma!”

I turned around and flipped him off over my shoulder as the doors closed.

I was covered in frosting, my ex was here with my twin sister wearing the same dress as I did, and I had just assaulted an Olympic gold medalist with cupcakes in front of a hundred witnesses and approximately hundreds of camera phones.

This was going to be everywhere by morning.

Blake was going to kill me.

I was going to be ‘difficult’ Deepika again, unstable Deepika, and ‘can’t handle her emotions’ Deepika.

But right now, covered in chocolate mousse and cream cheese frosting, with my heart in pieces and my dignity on the dessert table, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Marcus looked at me, covered in frosting, mascara probably running, golden dress ruined.

“Well,” he said finally. “That went better than expected.”

I burst out laughing, and then I was crying, and then I was laughing and crying, and Marcus just pulled me into a hug and let me ruin his expensive suit, too.

“I hate him,” I said into his shoulder.

“I know.”

“I hate her.”

“I know.”

“I hate everyone.”

“Understandable.”

After a few more sniffles, I pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked, my voice groggy.

“Anything for you, darling,” Marcus said with a smile and paused. “Anything but murder.”

“What a friend you are,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Well, if murder’s off the table, then how about… I get smashed.”

“Are you sure?” he asked carefully, as if I were a bomb that was about to explode.

I nodded, wiping the water droplets from my hair. Marcus, bless him, helped me wash the hair in the bathtub and clean up the frosting from my neck, face and dress so I looked presentable.