“My very first case of miscommunication.”
She grabs my arm, her face suddenly serious. “Find someone you like for some horizontal gymnastics, or I swear to God…”
“You know, you’re basically asking for me to get murdered,” I say, crossing my arms. “?‘Meet a stranger! Let your guard down!’ Next thing you know, I’m a case onDateline.”
She blinks, her eyes narrowing in that terrifying way that always makes me fold.
“Fine.”
“Great!” She hesitates. “And if that someone were Rafael Gray—”
“It’s not.”
“But if you wanted to—”
“I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes, waving me off. “Have fun, Scarlett.”
Why does that sound like a warning?
My palms are suddenly clammy. I look weird just standing here. Maybe I should spend some money I don’t have on a drink I don’t even want.
A group of masked women rush past me, forcing me to press against the wall. Relieved, I draw a deep breath. Some people don’t like to be in the background. Wall holders. Supporting cast. Luckily for me, that is where I thrive.
“I only wish I’d brought my book,” I say, my words getting lost in the crowd.
Unable to do much else, I people-watch. Or, rather, Rafael-watch. He’s still with that same woman, standing closer than I’d feel comfortable with. Even when he was a nineteen-year-old kid and lived here, he got around, so it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s still a flirt.
For some reason, it does.
I guess I imagined that he’d left for some tragic reason, and I just kept picturing him being miserable since. Not that I pictured him often—only as much as the average person wonders about someone who mysteriously vanished. His departure was just… sudden. And surprising. And the talk of the town, I’m sure, though at eighteen I wasn’t privy to adults’ gossip.
Suddenly, as if he knows I’m watching, he glances over and catches my eye.
Fucking busted.
I whip my head around, heartbeat rising, then decide that’s probably not enough and walk past a wall of people until I’m on the other side of the room, awkwardly hovering next to the small alcoves.
But I look even more out of place here, so I dive into the crowd again, coming out at the bar. I watch over my shoulder and make sure Rafael is nowhere nearby. When I don’t see him anywhere, I exhale.
This is stupid, right? This town is too small to allow for avoiding people, and I’m sure The Incident is not at the forefront of his thoughts, especially with his father’s passing.
I check my phone, deciding two hours is a perfectly acceptable amount of time to spend here before going home. A long, excruciating amount of time, but at least Paige won’t be complaining.
One hour and fifty-three minutes left.
One hour and forty-eight minutes.
One hour and forty-four.
I tuck the phone away and turn around, then stop dead in my tracks, my heart giving a startled thump as I find myself face-to-face withhim.
Up close, he’s even more of a presence, tall and broad-shouldered, the deep red of his suit catching flecks of light that make it shimmer. It’s perfectly tailored, fitting him like it was made for his body alone, the fabric stretching just slightly over his chest and shoulders. I can see now that the suit jacket has faint patterns woven into it, subtle swirls that seem to shift as he moves.
His eyes, framed by the mask, are as piercing and intense as they were five years ago. They’re an unsettling shade of gray, stormy and unreadable, and his jawline is sharp and severe, with a faint shadowof stubble. A small silver nose ring catches the light—subtle, but impossible to miss.
He looks like the devil.
