Chapter Three
Zoe
“Come inside and close the door, Zoe.”
I move mechanically, obeying because what else can I do? Run? He’s sure to catch me. And then what? Won’t that make me look guilty of whatever he thinks I’ve done?
I press my back against the door. “I saw the mark. I would’ve come to see you.”
“I saved you the trouble,” he says. There’s a glass on the coffee table, and he takes a drink.
“What is that?”
“Jack and Coke.”
My eyes dart to my cabinets. I don’t have whiskey in my place. I don’t even have wine or beer at the moment. My last party wiped me out, and I haven’t had the money to buy more liquor. I barely have money to buy food. My student loan check is on its way, and I need it for rent and groceries.
“Did you bring a bottle with you?” I ask, confused by the way he’s made himself at home like this is a social call.
“There are supplies in the Range Rover. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be at the cast party, so I started a party of my own while I waited.”
He does not look like a man who’s at a party.
“Did you like the show?” I ask, not sure why every muscle tightens as I wait for his answer.
“Of course. Everyone did.”
I smile. Praise from him means more than it should. “What was your favorite part?”
“The scene where you die.”
My stomach plunges. It’s the most powerful scene, where I do my best dancing and Rachel’s playing is unbelievable, but I could take his enjoyment of that scene in a different way. One that has nothing to do with the show. My heartbeat races, whipped by adrenaline.
“Should I have a drink with you?” I ask, not sure what else to say.
“Are you twenty-one?”
I laugh nervously. “Because we wouldn’t want to break the law?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come and sit down.”
