“I assumed you were smart enough to know my non answerwasan answer.”
I feign feeling wounded, my hand pressing against my chest as I watch for her own smile to break free. Which it does. Her head shakes on the sound of her laughter and holy fuck I wish this was different. I’d spend the rest of the night listening to her laugh like this.
I dip my head, flicking my gaze up at her, knowing I need to cut this off. “Goodnight, Sloane.”
“You’re lettin’ me go?” Genuine shock laces her tone, her lashes blinking one too many times before she recovers, but the damage is done. Now I know there’s something there; that she wasn’t posturing. That she felt it, too. “You’re just usually a dog with a bone.”
“Thought you said this was never gonna happen?” I tease, watching her blush travel across her cheekbones, taking in everything. The freckles on her cheeks, the fullness of her lips, the honeyed sound of that voice, the stubborn cut of her jaw—all of it, because I hope to God I’m never this close again. I don’t know what I’ll do the next time she’s in my arms, so there can’tbea next time. “Something about your brother…?”
She clears her throat, sobering up at his mention like I threw a bucket of ice on her. “I was flirtin’ with you, Spellman.If I wanted to fuck you, you would know,” she says, eyes narrowed as I flick my gaze to the floor so she won’t see my amusement.
“Jesus Christ, Sloane, I thought I lost you,” a familiar voice croons over the music, and I turn to see Jean wedging his way between a cluster of people. “Andy? What are you doing here?”
I open my mouth to answer, but my half brother—Ian Rivers—steps around his boyfriend and slyly grins at me. “He has theater connections. Autumn from his theater survey section sophomore year probably invited him, didn’t she?” he says, perky and unbothered, as my blood runs cold.
“Okay, it’s creepy that you just know things about everyone,” Jean says, rolling his eyes. “You know Andy?” he asks Sloane, confused.
I watch as Ian glances between Sloane and I, a wealth of knowledge lodged in the look.
“Barely,” she says at the same time I say, “Hardly,” and Jean’s brow draws tight.
“Okay…” he chuckles nervously. “You ready to go?” He turns toward Sloane, who’s already looped her arm through his and began dragging him to the entrance, but not before he presses a quick kiss on Ian’s cheek. “Bye. Text you after I drop her off!”
Jean’s voice slips away as he disappears into the crowd, and suddenly, she’s not here anymore. It should be a relief but it’s not—it’s just more want for something I can’t have.
“What’s troubling you, brother?” Ian’s voice is glib and way too fucking chummy for one o’clock in the morning, and I narrow my gaze at my half-brother: the prodigal son who’s only marginally less shady than our father. But give him time. He’ll get there.
“What is it?” I sigh, shooting a quick glance toward the bar. Will is nowhere in sight. “I’vegotta find?—”
“Will? In the bathroom. Doing something illicit. I didn’t ask.”
“What do you need, Ian?” I say behind gritted teeth.
“Will’s not doing well,” he says like it’s this grave, objective thing.
“Okay? His brother just came back and ripped captain out from under him. He’s coping.”
“He hasn’t mentioned anything else?”
“No,” I say emphatically, feeling my voice turn hoarse from talking over the metal now clanging through the speakers. “And I’m not your source, Ian. So fuck off.”
I storm away, reaching the smokey bathroom within seconds where I find Will with eyes red rimmed as he grins over at me.
“Come on. Time to go,” I tell him, nodding toward the door.
“Five more minutes?” he pleads, a smile cracked wide across his face as he stands up straight and sighs. “Yeah, okay. Not really my scene. A fuckingzombiegave me this.” He holds up a small joint, and I snatch it away, tossing it in the trash can.
“Probably shouldn’t take weed from a zombie,” I laugh, smacking his back as we make our way through the warehouse.
Will glances back at me, squinting. “I could really go for more of that banana bread.”
“I’m sure you could.”
7
Sloane
New England moves past me in a blur when I look out the car window, trying to find the sea that lies somewhere beyond all this concrete. With this little daylight left hanging in the sky, I can almost imagine we’re on our way to Jekyll Island. Crack the window and it’s almost like the top of my car is down, like I’m eighteen again—impossibly naive.
