“That came out wrong, I—” But I’d already put my foot in my mouth.
“Well, Cella, I hope you got whatever it was you were looking for,” Basile said icily. “If you’ll excuse me.”
And then he left the room.
My path back outside was considerably more awkward than the few conversations I would’ve had to bumble through if I would’ve just stayed sober. Why did I even drink at all last night? There was shit everywhere downstairs—half-empty cups and beer cans and bottles of energy drinks, wine bottles and bits and pieces of clothes and what I really hoped were gum wrappers. And the floor was sosticky.
These were the people I was so proud to have impressed?
I closed the front door of the house behind me, shaking off the last bit of chill, though no one was around to send me off. A few guys were snoring on the sofa. I felt a little like I was coming down with a fever.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Iwoke to the last rays of the sunset out my window, and Max sitting at the edge of my bed, eating. Naturally.
“Scone?” he asked, and I covered my head with a pillow. I could smell the sickly sweetness of it from here, something with cinnamon. A little like those scented brooms in the stores at the beginning of fall. My stomach heaved dangerously.
“No,” I groaned, pressing the fabric into my nose.
“What happened last night? I tried calling.”
“I sort of, um, passed out. On the bathroom floor.”
“Gross,” he said, miming shivers. “I bet that bathroom is disgusting. What’d you get for all that acting?”
I shook my head, grimacing. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he said, picking a crumb off his T-shirt and dropping it in his mouth. “That must have been the performance of a lifetime. Why’d you get so drunk?”
“Wait, no.” The note from the room upstairs. “Hand me my bag.”
I dug my hands into my purse, but though everything else was present—phone, keys, chapstick, hairbrush—the slip of paper I’d found in the room wasn’t.
“Shit. It must have fallen out when I was at the party, or …”
Or maybe I was too drunk and it had never made it into my bag in the first place. I was getting really sick of not being able to trust my own head.
“I got nothing.” I slumped down farther into the bed.
“Nothing but a headache,” he said, nodding to the way I rubbed my temples. My stomach twisted. Maybe it was just a hangover after all.
“I peeked into one of the brother’s rooms, but it wasn’t all that groundbreaking. Normal guy stuff.” What had the note said? Something I couldn’t make sense of, even if I had remembered. Probably just gibberish. Maybe a spell he’d been trying.
“Get a look at Grant’s things?”
I shook my head. “When I saw him, he was terrified that someone might have seen him fall asleep. It was weird. Like he was being punished or something.”
“What, like sleep deprivation?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just get the feeling that this is bigger than Grant alone.”
Max chewed his lip. “Hmm. What about Basile?”
“His office door was locked. Though I think you’re right. Things were definitely off. Basile is hiding something. It may not be big, it may not have anything to do with Dani or Maya, but it’s certainly something he doesn’t want me knowing about.”
He beamed. “I’ll try my best not to gloat.”
I leaned back on my pillow. “Now what?”
