“I’llslow you down,” John says, and again I’m brutally reminded of the fact he’s here bleeding out against a wall while I’m making intense “I don’t know if I want to stab you myself or turn our eye fucking into real fucking” eyes at Wes.
Damn it.
“John.No.We’re—”
“Jamie,lookat me.”He moves his hand from his shoulder and there’s still so much blood.Sticky, bright, corn syrup–looking blood.There was so much on the bathroom floor, on my hands, soaking through the sleeve of his shirt.He’s lost too much, and it’s a miracle he’s even still upright at this point.
“It’s okay.”He lifts his gaze to mine, those steel-blue eyes, that Bill Pullman entreating stare, focused solely on me.“Everything will work out.”
“John—”
His face crumples in pain just for a second, and it’s the only indication I have of what he’s planning to do before he pushes off the wall.I reach for him, Wes does, too, but John’s already propelling himself along the carpeted hall, using all his strength to stagger-run past the flickering gas lamps, past the curlicue frames of the antique mirrors, right into the path of Heart Eyes.Right for the knife he holds out like he’s offering a rose onThe Bachelor.My scream cuts down the walls like razor-sharp nails on a chalkboard.
“John!”
Wes grabs me around the waist, showing just how strong he is when he pulls me into his chest and my bare feet leave the carpet.He turns and starts running before I can see John make impact with Heart Eyes, but I can still picture it.Vividly.The way John would throw his body into Heart Eyes, lurch over his shoulder like theywere sharing an embrace in the airport arrivals gate.I can imagine the sound of the knife going into his belly.The force of it.I can see it so clearly, even though all I actually see is the red and gold blur of the walls as Wes runs down the corridor carrying me like oversized luggage against his chest until I can pull myself away from replaying the image of John staggering right up to the killer and just… sacrificing himself.
I wonder whether Heart Eyes knew Wes and John were the ones I liked the most tonight.Whether he watched our dates and saw the way John made me blush or Wes made me laugh and planned it so all three of my suitors could end up here and he could cut down the other two in front of me.Give me no choice but to choose him by default.
When Wes sets me down and I find my feet, I grab the hand he thrusts toward me and we keep running.My pulse pounding in my ears, my breath ragged, we sprint back to the entrance of the club and head for the stairs to the mezzanine (rules be damned).As Wes and I are taking the steps two at a time, a quiet voice breaks through the haze of fright again to remind me that John and I didn’t even get to have that drink.
CHAPTER 25
“That thing, that moment, when you kill someone, and everything around becomes hazy and the only thing in focus is you and this person and you realize that that person is the only person that you’re supposed to kill for the rest of your life.”
—NotNever Been Kissed
“Fuck,” Wes mutters as we catch our breath in another VIP room.
When we made it up the stairs, we bypassed the hallway I had run down with Laurie and Jennifer.It’s important not to retrace your steps too much; what was a safe place in the past can turn on you this far into the film.Instead, we headed for dark scary hallway four, Wes’s hand locked around mine until we spotted a room that had a partition in front of the doorway.The top of the solid divider stands at my chin height, obscuring the view of the room from anyone stalking the hallway, and as soon as we’re on the other side of it, we plant our backs to the surface and slide down to the floor.
“Wes—”
Still trying to catch his breath, he gasps, “I can’t believe—Anotherperson—And we were arguing—And he just…Fuck.”
He rubs his least bloody palm against his forehead, like he’s trying to erase the sight of John running toward Heart Eyes from his memory.Maybe he’s trying to erase this whole night while he’s at it.Wes has taken the lead on so many things, and I can see it’s starting to take its toll.It’s a weight he shouldn’t have to shoulder—it’s not like he’s more equipped to handle this than the rest of us.If anyone should feel responsible, it’s me.
“You couldn’t have done anything,” I murmur.
I don’t know if we could have left that corridor with John and still have made it here, but I do know if Wes had done anything other than drag me away we’d both be dead.Or at least he would be.Heart Eyes may have kept me around for a spin on the dance floor before he realized I can’t be what he wants me to be and murdered me on it instead.
“I could’ve donesomething.”
“You did.You got us out of there.”
He doesn’t say anything, but when he lets out a deep, accepting sigh, one that ends in a little shake of his head, my words are enough to pull him back from the corridor downstairs.
His hand slides over the carpet and finds mine again, enveloping my fingers in heat and soft pressure that makes it easy to ignore that both our hands are covered in blood.He doesn’t make a show of it.There’s no extended eye contact or slow intertwining of his fingers with mine.He just grabs my hand and tilts his head back against the wall, like it’s the thousandth time he’s done it, like this kind of touch is a normal part of our interactions, and the idea it could be, one day, makes warmth bloom in my chest.
“Are you okay?”he asks, and for some reason that makes me laugh.
Such a simple question that doesn’t have a place here.Not now that John is gone.Not now that Heart Eyes has performed the “emotionalkill” of the evening.The one the audience feels the most deeply.Annie inHalloween II, or—As soon as the thought enters my head, I push it out again.I don’twantto compartmentalize what just happened as another part of the formula.I don’t want John’s story to end this way.But the fact it has makes my voice crack when I reply.
“No, I’m not okay.You?”
“Not in the slightest,” he says, and when he tips his head down to look at me and smiles, it’s nice to see our gallows humor matches.It hints that we may be more compatible than a guy who likesThe Fast and the Furiousand a woman who’s read every single one of the forty-eight essays inMy Favorite Horror Moviefour times should be.It also reminds me of his hero complex and that before John stole his thunder, Wes had every intention of going head to head with Heart Eyes.
“Were you actually going to…”
