There’s body paint all over the front of my tux, and it coats my hands. If there were a UV light around, I’d be lighting up the dark like fucking Chernobyl. No wonder the dean wascataloging my appearance. I may as well have handed her a signed confession.
“The rain will chase them home.”
“Here’s hoping,” she says primly. “This was supposed to be a private affair for the Greeks so they can blow off some steam before midterms. Now it appears half the school’s ended up in those woods.”
“Give them a finger and they take the whole damn hand,” I say with a chuckle.
Her upturned nose lifts a quarter inch as she gives me another interrogatory scan. “If you weren’t so wet and…bright, I’d offer you a nightcap.”
I wipe the rain off my forehead again. “And I’d have accepted. Unfortunately, I wasn’t joking about those assignments, Yolanda.”
“Probably for the best. Neither of us needs another scandal.” She glances up at the sky with obvious distaste. “Be careful out there. Things will be slippery for a while.”
Jesus, if she only knew.
I roll my lips together, nod. She gives me a frown and struts over to her black Mercedes S-Class a few yards away. I watch her go, giving her a wave when she turns to climb behind the wheel.
Her headlamps illuminate me and the curtain of rain falling between us. I don’t know if she can see Haven in the passenger seat, but if she can, she doesn’t stop to say anything.
“Trouble from the word go,” I mutter as I slide into the driver’s seat. “You make me wish corporal punishment were still a thing.”
I glance over at Haven as I put the Tesla in gear. Her hands twitch in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling like she’s trying to grasp something that isn’t there. She’s still staring blankly ahead, the gum I forced into her mouth slipping out again through slack lips.
“Christ,” I mutter, holding my hand under her chin. “Spit.”
Like a child, she pushes the gum out with her tongue, not even looking at me. Shaking my head, I clap my hand against my mouth, tossing the gum inside and chewing it with force.
Might prevent me grinding my teeth.
“Let’s get you somewhere safe, girl,” I murmur, pulling onto the empty road.
I crank the heat to maximum and pull out of the country club’s lot, keeping my speed measured, controlled as I head toward town. Sudden movements could trigger another spiral.
The wipers sweep across the windshield, creating a hypnotic rhythm that matches the pulse in my veins. I need to focus on driving, but I can’t stop stealing glances at her. The passing streetlights illuminate her profile in flashes—hollow cheeks, parted lips, vacant eyes.
A siren pierces the air.
Haven’s entire body convulses like she’s been electrocuted.
“No! Please!” she screams, hands flying to her ears. “I’ll be good!I’ll be good!”
An ambulance races past us, lights flashing, siren blaring. Haven folds in on herself, rocking back and forth, gasping for breath like the sound is physically painful.
“It’s just an ambulance, girl,” I say firmly, but she’s too far gone to hear me.
My eyes follow the emergency vehicle as it speeds toward the country club. Someone must have gotten hurt at the Rain Dance.
My lips tighten.
Ambulance means paramedics. Paramedics mean police reports. Police mean questions.
Questions like, ‘why was Professor Rooke carrying a half-naked, drugged student away from a faculty-sanctioned event?’
“Can you hear me, Haven?” I ask, keeping my voice low and even.
She jerks as if I slapped her, head snapping in my direction, blue eyes big as saucers. Her feet slip off the seat, the jolt of them landing on the floor seeming to wrench her out of her shock.
“Where—” Her voice cracks, and her hand shoots out, clawing at the door handle.
