Feral's P.O.V.
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"Oh, yeah, you're definitely him," the woman said, putting her hands on her hips.
"Do I know you?" I asked, my tone a bit ruder than I intended.
"Nope, but I know you, Feral," she replied with a sly smile.
Then the chick pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. She clearly hadn't been around here before. Everyone knows that you only sit at this table if you're invited. It's the VIP table, the president's table. That's why Nash kept his a.ss standing.
"You got a death wish or something?" I snapped at her.
"Hey, sweetness, you can't sit there," Nash said to her, his normal charm in place.
"Why not?" She asked, turning her head to frown at him.
"This is the VIP table," I stated, practically spitting the words at her.
She turne
