Blowers sent fake fog spiralling through the air, and Comet banners hung from every corner of the room. String lights gleamed, the only light source illuminating the darker corners.
The smell of sweat, alcohol, and sex permeated the air, certifying the authenticity of the party.
Unknown faces filtered in and out of my sight. My breathing became irregular.
And we danced. And we lived. And we felt forever young.
The music outside was even louder, the area having its own separate DJ. It was just as well lit with various lights,surrounded by palm trees that enclosed the two rubber fountains flowing with alcohol.
I scanned the crowd of pounding bodies and laughing souls. I recognized several familiar faces from Comet, but I didn’t see Lachlan and his band.
Tiziano was in the DJ booth, chatting while gesturing with his hands. It smelled like a wereball conversation, but I hoped I was wrong if only for the mental health of the DJ; he was looking at Tizzy a bit hot and heavy, headphones slid up to listen to him. It seemed some love matches—or rather, hookups—were being made while other people were being hilariously blown off.
“I definitely need another drink to dance to this kind of music.”
“More like six drinks,” Amaia corrected as we giggled.
Tiziano, heading toward us, tripped and fell to the sticky linoleum floor, making us all laugh out loud. Makena snapped a photo of him to feed to her starving followers.
Suddenly, the hair on the nape of my neck stood up.
My laugh was vacuumed away. My air, too.
It was as if an electric current had escaped the wires and shot through the air.
I saw him first.
A movie star, but more beautiful and dangerous. Predatory.
He was leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, a lazy slouch to his tall frame. His eyes were scanning the area, his lip curled up a little.
I was flat-out gawking at this point, but it was hard not to.
He was wearing a black sweater with short sleeves, open at the front, the zip resting leisurely over the beginning of his unbelievable eight-pack. Laces dangled carelessly from one of his Converse shoes.
He looked tenebrous, with those glowing silver eyes almost giving off a haunting light from under his black hood.
My heart tripped over itself.
Still recovering from his appearance, I was startled when a group of girls made a fortress around him. They chatted with him, touchingmyshoulders andmyarms. He chuckled at something they said and bent down when another snapped a selfie of all of them. A snarl escaped my lips, and my fists clenched. The pictures I had seen today shot through my mind.
How dare he let them touch him?
And, Stephen, I could not take my eyes off him.
“Here, drink this.” Amaia handed me a shot, practically forcing it down my throat. It burned, but not as much as his betrayal. “Those thighs of his could crush a watermelon.”
I put a hand over my face as I felt it heat up. “A field of watermelons.”
“Ah. It’s him, hm? I have to admit, he’s gorgeous, love.”
“He is.” I rubbed a hand over my chest. “But he had nothing to do with his own gorgeousness. It was handed to him.”
“And he’s also gone!” Amaia pointed out, and I whirled with my mouth open.
Had he left with the three chickens to go to his private den?Okay, that was mean, but!Why was he here? At a party mostly for Comet? And without backup? If he had that much time off, why hadn’t he found a way to contact me instead? Doubts and insecurities flooded in.
“Is that the Terminator making out with two girls?” Makena might as well have stabbed my heart directly; it would’ve had the same effect.
