His breath was foul. Not as horrible as a monster, but deeply unsettling.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. But he’d already moved on, shoving himself into a cluster of men in matching jackets.
When I looked up, the rooftop was vacant. Nothing but darkness and heavy gray clouds obscuring the moon. The cold was crisp, and the dread in my stomach pressed heavily on my already frazzled nerves.
“Blondie!” someone called out from the front door. The familiar voice softened the sticky atmosphere glued to my skin.
Ignoring the tension, I approached the house. None of the talking bystanders on the porch gave me a second glance. It didn’t erase the sensation of being watched locked to the back of my neck.
The feeling of the party crashing over me barely dampened the prickling under my skin. Bass reverberated in my chest, worsening the erratic rattle of my heart. Lights flickered and spiraled in a dizzying projection of colors, disorienting me. The heat of hundreds of bodies shoved together like clowns in a tiny car turned the first floor into a sweltering sauna, humid with sweat, too much cologne, and drunken breaths.
Bodies overlapped as they danced in the center of what I assumed was usually the living room. Arms were held high over heads, swaying to the beat, waving under the lights and mimicking a flashing rainbow. Voices shouted through the jumble of music and laughter. Someone dancing in a skin-tight black dress sloshed her drink as she spun and giggled.
I tried to orient myself within the gravity of the party. There were too many people, too close, too loud. There might as well have been thousands of ants climbing all over my body.
“There you are!” A heavy arm draped over my shoulders, and I cringed at the unwelcome contact. “Saw you throughthe window, but almost feared you’d bailed on us,” Moth said directly into my ear, words already slurring at the ends.
I delicately extricate myself from his arm. He didn’t seem to notice my awkwardness. Instead, he smiled, face flushed and eyes bright from whatever he’d been drinking. Well on his way to being properly sloshed.
I shook my head, unable to form a response before he shoved a cup into my hand.
“You need to catch up, Blondie!” He tapped the bottom of my cup before I could protest. “Bottoms up.”
Wasn’t that why I had gone in the first place? To drink and maybe forget my troubles for a little while? To seek comfort and solace in companionship?
I swallowed a mouthful of something overly sweet with over-poured vodka. Warmth and prickly unease crashed through me and settled like a hot boulder in my stomach. The vodka fumes surged up the back of my throat and stung my nose.
“Niffy and I are way ahead of you,” he said. Behind Moth, Niffy was clutching a nearly full beer bottle and scanning the crowd.
I noticed their usual third missing from sight.
“Hey, where’s Talon?” I called over the thumping music.
Moth paused mid-sip.
Niffy whipped around and snapped, “None of your business, Blondie.”
The hostility of the reply slapped me. I clutched my cup to my chest and stopped swaying to the beat. “Um, okay. I was simply asking.”
Her upper lip curled, baring her teeth, and her nose scrunched. “Don’t.”
Moth stepped in, shouldering Niffy out of the way.
She cut her gaze to the other dancers surrounding us, head craning to peer around the crowd. Her energy unsettled mealmost as much as her nasty attitude. I’d never been great at confrontations unless a retort escaped my tongue before I knew it was coming. Instead of replying, I bit the inside of my cheek, frowning as Moth stole my attention.
“Ignore her,” he said, swirling the contents of his cup. “Talon had a, uh, family emergency. Left earlier in the day.” My lips parted, but he waved me off. “Don’t worry about it.”
It was an obvious lie, but it didn’t affect me enough to press him on the matter. And I didn’t care enough to ask.
Moth must have known it was a poor lie, because he avoided eye contact and continued drinking. I opted to follow along and took a long drag of whatever mixed drink was on offer. Slowly but surely, the movement of the music pulled me in like flotsam riding frothy ocean waves. A drag and flow, push and pull, swaying to a heavily up-tempo synth song. Snapshots of light and color swayed in chaotic unison with the music, fractals of purple, red, blue, and gold glittered across the walls and blurring faces.
For seconds, minutes, maybe hours, the rhythm guided me as I continued chugging away at one drink after another shoved into my hand. Drinking and swaying until the last drop passed my lips, and I’d sufficiently melted into the luxurious haze of alcohol and dancing.
The feeling of an intense gaze watching me blazed across the back of my neck.
My pulse spiked, and my eyes snapped open.
I stood still in the middle of the room, with dozens of bodies writhing around me. A blur of movement, like smeared paint in my periphery. The party liquefied around me, people and lights warping into nonsense, and I jolted away from the suffocating influx of anxiety creeping in my veins.
