Paige, now wearing a mask of her own and her hair curled at the tips, pops up beside me, wrapping an arm around my neck in a half strangle. “So? What do you think?”
“It’s amazing, Paige.” I take in the dramatic red lights and the velvet-draped walls. “If I hadn’t driven here, I wouldn’t know we were at The Oak.”
“Thank God. My boss has been on me about tonight.” She pulls out her phone. “Do you like the dress code?”
“Yeah, I love it.” Of course, no man given the choice of red or black went for the red… except for one, actually. The man standing in the back of the room dressed in a scarlet suit—bordering on ridiculous but somehow working for him.
He’s taller than most people around him, and he glances around like he’s fully aware of the attention he’s drawing and reveling in it.
Once the red light hits his face, I freeze.
The sharp lines of his suit contrast with his unruly dark hair, which looks as if someone tried to tame it with gel before it rebelliously resumed its windswept state. His black mask has faint silver accents along the edges that catch the dim light, and his mouth curves in a faint, almost lazy smile as he talks to a woman.
I’ll never forget that smile.
“Do you see that?”
“That guy?” She looks over casually. “Oh, I seehim. Definitely.”
“No, I mean… don’t you recognize him?”
“Did I sleep with him?” She squints. “Didyousleep with him?”
“No—”
“Then I don’t care.”
“It’s Rafael,” I insist. “Gray?”
“Shut your mouth hole.” Paige gasps, whacking my arm. “No freaking way. He’s back?”
Well, apparently so. And he looks plenty chummy with the woman holding his arm, leaning in close. A breathtaking blonde with flowing hair that cascades down her back, framing a face that could belong in a magazine. Just his type.
“Are you sure? I mean, how can you even recognize him? He’s wearing a mask, and we haven’t seen him in…”
“Five years,” I say, a little more sharply than I intended.
Paige studies me with blatant curiosity. “That long, huh? Since the, uh…”
“The Incident,” I confirm.
“Are you okay?”
Of course I’m okay. So the boy next door is back—except he’s a man next door now. We barely interacted when he lived here; we likely won’t interact more now that he’s back. “He must be here for his dad’s funeral.”
“Could be. He hasn’t been back once—I honestly thought he was in prison.”
Prison?“Why would you think that?”
“Because of the way he left?” She scoffs. “And everything he did while he lived here?”
Sure, Rafael Gray was anything but a golden boy. Fights, smoking, underage drinking, driving without a license—since he’s been able to walk, he’s been making bad choices. But I always had a feeling that it wasn’t his fault—that John Gray had something to do with why his mother had left them. With why Rafael looked so miserable. Seeing him miss Christmases and birthdays for five years straight confirmed my suspicions.
“Anyway,” Paige says, smacking her lips, “does anyone look good?”
Oh God.“I agreed I would wear the dress. Didn’t say I would actually mingle.”
“It’s implied, Scarlett.”
