ONE
GRACIE
The bass of the music pulses through me as I stand at the bar and look out over the mask covered faces.
I’m pretty sure I know everyone here, though there are a few I don’t recognize without actually being able to see their faces.
Some people are wearing masks that cover their entire face, some are only partially covered, and a few have already pulled their masks off.
Like my brother.
I can see him standing over the balcony looking down at people. His friends are sitting at the table behind him, all of their masks sitting on the table in front of them as though they’re already sick of them. I’m not even sure he realizes they’re there. He’s been checked out a lot lately, which is unlike him.
Though I’m convinced it has something to do with Blackwater’s biggest mystery and newest student, the girl who’s just now caught my brother’s attention as she wanders through the crowd, Lana James.
“Hey, you’re Cole Aston’s little sister, right?” a voice asks from behind me, and I tense.
I hate that it’s all I’m known for.
For who my brother is, who my family is.
Can’t I just be Gracie?
I turn to see who’s speaking, and I inwardly groan when I recognize him.
Joshua Trolenti.
He’s in a few of my classes, and I’ve noticed him watching me here and there, though this is the first time he’s actually spoken to me. Figures, the first thing he would go with would be to mention Cole.
“Yep,” I murmur and give him a small smile. It’s an awkward smile, though. The type a girl gives a guy when she’s trying to be polite, but really just wants to tell him to leave her the hell alone.
He grins. “I’ve seen you around, little Aston. I wish I’d have approached you sooner.”
For what? To annoy me?
Jesus Christ, I really need to leave.
I don’t even know why I agreed to come here. I much prefer to socialize in small groups or just spend time on my own. Crowded places like this really aren’t my thing.
“So, why are you standing here all alone?” he drawls, and it kind of makes my skin crawl.
In truth, I’m standing here alone because both of my friends are parading around on the dance floor, and that isn’t what I would call fun. So, I’m standing here alone, trying to determine how long I need to stay before I can leave without being considered boring.
Though I’m not really sure why I care what anyone thinks.
It’s my toxic trait, worrying about other people’s opinions. It probably has something to do with the way I grew up, my family always having eyes on us. The pressure to never step a foot out of line.
“Just needed a breather,” I mutter, my eyes darting from him to around the room.
He steps in closer to me, and I try not to outwardly cringe.
Clearly, he can’t tell from my body language or facial expression that I want him nowhere near me because he shifts even closer, leaning down to whisper in my ear, “What do you say we get out of here, little Aston?”
I’m already shaking my head and pulling away from him before he’s even finished speaking.
“No, thank you,” I mutter, hoping that’s the end of it, but his face screws up, a look of disbelief covering his face like he can’t believe someone would reject him.
Surely his lines don’t work usually, right?
