He added, “It’s Palma’s birthday.”
Well. Fuck.
“Palma said you’re cool. You look cool. I’m thinking you’re cool. Come out with us tonight.” He flicked a finger under my book, shutting it. “You’re in college. You got your whole life to study. It’s Palma’sbirthday. Eh? Eh? You’re coming out, aren’t you? I can see the wheels turning. You’re totally coming.”
Going out with people?
I used to daydream about what it would be like to be normal. It never happened for me because I was a foster kid first. Then I was Creighton’s, just ... Creighton’s. When I came to New York, there’d been a time period where I’d just been Blake Green. No Creighton shadow over me.
I loved it. It’d been glorious, and I tried having the normal friend thing.
It hadn’t worked out.
I wish there wasn’t a flutter of anxiety in my chest. I really did, but there was. Creighton’s watchdog was sitting at a table a few over. He didn’t quite have his back to me. His clothes blended. He had a backpack. A coffee. A textbook and notebook spread out on the table. He looked like a college student. Except he wasn’t.
And suddenly I was pissed off because fuck Creighton.
If I wanted to try and be normal, and going out with college friends was almost as normal as I could imagine, then I was going to do it.
“You know what. Yeah. Let’s go out tonight.”
The guy lifted his head, his eyes flicking to me. He reached for his phone, and I wanted to jump up, grab that phone, and bash it to pieces because I knew who he was notifying.
There’d been a line outside the club where Marshall told me to head. I needed to study, and they went ahead to pick up some of Palma’s friends, so I arrived later. Nightclub 1. It was a new club that Palma wanted to check out. I laughed a little at the name of the club, seeing the owners had put a lot of thought into it.
I didn’t see Palma or anyone else in line that I knew, so I bypassed it for the door. I didn’t know if this would work, but they might’ve given my name to the bouncer. I was right. He whisked open the door almost right away, nodding to me. “Go right in, Miss Green.”
A few people grumbled that were still waiting to get inside, but the other guard raised his voice, “Shut it!”
The first guy nodded again to me, reassuring. “Go ahead. Go on inside.”
Loud hip hop dance music blasted me as soon as I stepped inside. The place was packed, but I weaved through the crowd, seeing Palma at the edge of the dance floor. Their group had claimed two tables. I skimmed over the others but only recognized Palma and Marshall. I didn’t know the others. I’m sure Heath was there, but I couldn’t see him. I wasn’t exactly going to go looking for him.
Nearing the group, Palma saw me coming. She squealed, ran over, and wound her arms around my neck. “Ahh! You came. I’m so happy.”
Her cheeks were rosy. She looked happy.
A couple of her friends came up, asking her a question. As she let go of me to answer, I caught a flash of movement against the far wall ofthe club. A certain head of dirty-blond hair that was moving fast along the periphery of the bar, and my heart stopped.
No.
I considered the possibility, but no. No way.
The guy was gone now, disappearing past a door, but how he moved, the side profile of his face—he looked like someone I’d grown up with. Lassiter. But there was no way. Last (what we called him for a nickname) wouldn’t be here.
He never left Cincinnati.
He was Creighton’s number two.
But if itwashim ... The only reason he’d be here would be—my stomach dipped again.
No.
No, no, no.
My vision grew blurry at the edges. I tried to shove down my alarm, scanning the room.
If that was Lassiter, and that was a bigif, then the reason he’d be here was if he were here to see Creighton. And if Creighton was here, he would’ve already known I was as well, and—horror started to creep inside of me.
