“Yeah, that might help,” he murmurs, taking the lead tothe dance floor. I look at the back of his head, and then at the stage where the band is striking up another song.
I open my mouth before I realise and reach out for Holden, about to grab hold of him, but he slips into the crowd, and I step back.
I don’t want to dance…
I’m about to turn away when Holden grabs my wrist and pulls me forward. “Come on, where is your head at?” he asks loudly as he begins moving to the music.
I raise my hand, ready to write a reply, when he lets out a small ‘tsk’ and shakes his head. “Don’t answer, just dance.”
Nodding, I lock my arms around his neck, not wanting to look him in the eye, unable to stop the thoughts from niggling into my mind. I’ve talked to Allie and Theo… Neither of them made out as if I was lacking. I was heard, but with Holden, it’s as if I’m silenced, literally.
He holds my hips, dancing against me, but I’m unable to focus on enjoying the moment or the song. I’m not enjoying us hanging out.
When the song ends, I pull away and clap along with everyone else.
“That was awesome. They’re pretty good,” Holden says. I nod. “This is the reason you, of all people, shouldn’t have lost your voice,” he murmurs. I look over at him.
What do you mean?I write, refusing to simply tolerate it anymore. It is bothering him a lot, and I want to understand why.
“Well… you’re already really stiff and reserved. Without a voice, you just…” He looks down.
I’m even more robot-like?I finish for him.
He looks at me apologetically. “Well… yeah…” I have never been slapped across the face, but the way my face stings at his words, I think this is how it would feel. I keep myself composed and nod. I thought he saw me as more than that. I guess not.
“It’ll take me a little time; I’ll get used to it.”
I nod again.Excuse me, I’m going to go find Allie,I write.
“Hey, are you mad?”
I’m about to reply when someone shouts out to him.
“Holden!”
I’m glad, because if he doesn’t know the answer to that question of his, he’s stupid.
I turn my attention to the stage, where the last of the equipment is being cleared away. One of the girls steps forward, microphone in hand, her voice carrying over the hum of chatter.
“Alright, everyone! Time for the not-so-secret performance from some of the hottest boys on campus! Give it up for them, and don’t forget to donate! Tonight, we’re supporting war orphans!”
The lights cut out, plunging the grounds into pitch-black darkness. Just before the shadows swallow everything, I catchAllie off to the side, carefully avoiding the dance floor and anyone from coming near her, as if they may carry a plague.
My gaze flicks back to the stage, where fog creeps across it, spreading through the crowd. The first shrieks break from the girls the moment orange and blue light beams cut through the haze.
There are ten of them.
Their backs are to us, each man shirtless, loose black pants hanging low on their hips. Scythes gleam in their hands, long blades catching the light and glinting. White paint marks their faces, creating skulls, dark eyes and teeth glowing eerily beneath the strobes.
The crowd screams louder, and I cock a brow.
On the left, Asher Nicholson is recognisable. The colourful tattoo on his shoulder is unmistakable even through the paint. Beside him, Carter has his scythe balanced with a casual confidence, hair tied up in a man bun. I don’t recognise the ones between them, though the one in the middle is from First Division, but they’re all seniors, that much is obvious.
The bass drops, low and seductive, and the men move.
It isn’t some cringe attempt at stripping, although it’s what I was expecting. This looks… incredible. The choreography is sharp, laced with rhythm, sensuality woven into every precise strike. Scythes slice the air in perfect arcs, weapons snapping in time with the beat. Hips roll between attacks, shoulders shifting in slow undulations before exploding into sharp spins.
Chains of sweat glisten across their bodies as they drag the scythes across their torsos, down the ridges of theirstomachs, before slinging them outward in dangerous whirls.
