Daisy doesn’t fight me on the decision. When the server saunters away, I snatch Rose’s arm, and shewobblesin her four-inch heels.
My eyes bug.
I’ve only seen Rose break her stride once. Her heel caught in a metal grate in New York, and she burned those shoes afterwards to rid herself of bad joojoo. I think if Connor knew that she’strulysuperstitious, he’d tease her for a solid century.
Melissa sidles next to me, and I must be giving off a distressed look because she says, “Your sisters are sloshed.” Announcing the obvious does not help.
The music changes into the theme song fromSupermanand it totally disorients me. I whip around, and impersonators on the stage are now dressed as various superheroes. Superman and Captain America stand on the tall balcony, a spotlight shining on them.
People start trying to edge closer to the stage, and someone bumps me from behind, almost losing my grip on Rose. “Watch it, buddy,” I snap at him, but it really loses its effect when my focus is on the superheroes. It’s my catnip.
The tempo starts to rise, and as the crescendo hits, Superman and Captain America leap from the balcony and fly to the square bar only feet from us.
Bullshit.
Cap cannot fly.
I’m so angry that they made Captain America have a superpower he really doesn’t possess that I don’t see the incoming body from my right. His arm rams my side so hard that I teeter, and Rose’s heels slide out from under her. She completely falls, dragging me with her. We’re both on the ground before I can make sense of anything else.
My bony hip digs into the hard concrete floor, and my skirt soaks in sticky alcohol. I don’t even want to think about what else could exist down here. I sit up and lose sight of Rose. Has she risen to her feet? But that’s unlikely considering she could barely stand on her heels.
My heart thuds. “Rose!” I call. The bodies cage me in, and I suddenly fear being stepped on and squashed like a little bug. But more than that, I fear the same thing happening to my inebriated sister. Before I make a move, two pairs of hands slide underneath my armpits and lift me right off the ground like I weigh as much as a bag of apples.
It has to be a guy.
A guy is touching me.
Abort. Abort.My mind has flashing signs, picturing some flirtation on his part as soon as I turn around. He helped me up, after all. I’m sure he’ll expect the damsel in distress to kiss him for his chivalry.
I contemplate running off, but he spins me around and places his hands on my cheeks. I jerk away on impulse.
“Lil.”
“Lo.” I take a breath of relief and willingly slide into his arms, my heart practically beating out of my chest. When my thoughts realign, I pull away quickly. “Where’s Rose?”
As soon as I say the words, confetti bursts from cannons, blocking my vision and coating the floor in slick paper. I take a step and slip again, Lo reaches out and catches me before I fall to the floor.
His arms are tucked behind my back, and the music pumps and streamers fly. I feel like it’s midnight on NewYear’s Eve. He stares deep into my eyes, and he says, “Did you drink anything?”
I shake my head. I wouldn’t. Because then I wouldn’t be able to do this. I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. He pulls me into his body and lifts my back completely straight, swept up in the way our tongues dance together. But I retract first.
Even though I love Lo, even though I’d like nothing more than to kiss him—my sisters are lost somewhere. And I need to find them.
Lo sees the panic in my eyes again, and he gives me a look likeI won’t let anything happen to them.I believe him. Now, more than ever, I believe that he’s here for me.
He grabs my hand and leads me through the congested area that’s teaming with bodies. “They’re really drunk,” I tell Lo over the music.
His cheekbones sharpen.
“What?” My pulse speeds. “What is it?”
He tugs me in front of him, his hands on my shoulders as we move, and he lowers his head so that his lips brush my ear. “They were drinking absinthe.”
What?! I don’t think the server mentioned what was in the glowing bottles. Rose would never be crazy enough to drink absinthe, something that’s too crazy for America.
On Halloween, Lo’s eighteenth birthday, we took a plane to Amsterdam just to buy a bottle. He claimed he wanted to get drunk with a green fairy, thinking he’d hallucinate. He ended up passing out within the hour, leaving me to watch over him in our hotel room.
I go into sister-mode and walk faster, my eyes open and alert for any signs of my effervescent blonde sister and my fashionable brunette one.
