“My friend thinks you’re cute!” Melissa says, yelling over the music. “You want to dance with her?”
The guy gives her a small smirk, then glances at me and shakes his head.
His mouth moves, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the loud music. He gently grabs my elbow, leaning in until he’s closer to my ear.
“I don’t dance.”
Melissa has super-hearing, obviously. She glances at me, an evil smile on her mouth, then yells, “You wanna make out with her?”
“Melissa!” I poke my elbow into her side, and try desperately not to die of mortification.
He’s grinning when he glances at me again. I wipe my palms on the shimmery fabric clinging to my sides and try a smile that comes out more like a panicked squirm.
“You two can figure it out,” she says, waving her hands like a magician. I hear her mutter, “Hopefully,” just before she slips back into the crowd.
I give the guy a weird wave.
Rock on, Haven.
He cocks his head toward the sorority’s back door. Most of the houses on this row seem set up the same way. A massive, open-plan living-dining area with a sectioned-off kitchen. Huge backyard with a lawn and seating. Even though it’s drizzling outside, and has been most of the day, there’s a bunch of college kids in the pool, splashing around on floaties shaped like avocados and flamingos.
It’s only when the crisp air hits me that I realize how drunk I am. As in, I can barely keep my balance. Maybe all those people in there were propping me up.
The guy leads me to an empty spot by the railing, and I rush closer to lean against it, thankful for the extra support.
It’s like I’m looking through a pair of dirty sunglasses. Whatever I focus on is clear, everything else a blur. When I look at the swimming pool, I can make out the kids splashing around inside, but everything else is foggy and washed out.
“Having fun?” the guy asks.
My eyes drift to him, and I have to blink before he comes into focus. He slips out his phone, scans the screen, and then puts it back in his pocket.
“Yeah. I mean…sure.” Because one is completely different from the other, Haven.
“Blake,” he says, holding out his hand.
I shake his hand. Try not to dwell on how clammy my palm is compared to his. “Haven.”
“Yeah, I know.” He’s still holding my hand. I’d have to yank really hard to get it free. But I don’t want to. It’s warm, and strong, and he doesn’t seem to mind that I’m sweating.
“You…know?”
“Word gets around.” He shrugs when my face just scrunches up even more with confusion. “That shit Ezra pulled last night was brutal. Sorry you got caught up in that.”
“Oh.” Of course he knows. Everyone knows. That’s why they were staring. My days of being invisible are over, and in the worst fucking way possible.
His grip loosens enough that I can pull my hand out of his, and my fingers immediately go to my throat.
Melissa slapped a shit ton of concealer over the bruises, but I know they’re there. And from the way this guy stares at my neck, he probably knows they are, too.
“News gets stale fast around here. It’ll blow over now that the cops are involved. People are already taking down their videos. In a few weeks, they’ll have moved on to someone else.”
Videos? Police?
“Cops?”
Nothing can rip through my flimsy facade as quickly as the law can. Hence why I’ve been doing my utmost best to not get so much as a fucking parking ticket. But I’ve gotten sloppy after starting at AHC, thinking I’m untouchable now that I’m a student.
Blake shrugs, taking a sip from his red solo cup as he turns to watch the people in the pool. “Just one cop, really. Nosy fucker though.” His brow furrows. “I get it’s his job, but seriously, dude needs to chill. It’s not like Ezra’s pressing charges.”
