Page 98 of Sinister

“First dance of the evening?” Sin asks, perhaps sensing my mood. I take up his offer and his outstretched hand, and we head to the dance floor.

The music pulses around us, and I allow myself to get swept up in the rhythm. For the first time in a long while, I feel light and carefree. Sin’s eyes never leave mine as we swing our arms and do the silliest moves.

Soon, the crowd has been taken over by a spirit of revelry, and limbs move askance as the music turns from synth pop to techno to trap house and EDM and so on.

“Petra,” he yells into my ears as a Claire Laffut song starts playing.

“What do you think?” I yell back into his ears with a huge grin on my face.

Laffut’s smoky voice sings of being bespelled by love, and I wonder if this is what it feels like . . . this mad ecstasy, this joyful abandon.

Sin pulls me closer, and I go into his arms willingly. For a while, we just hop and sway to the beats of the song, while other couples also join hands and lean into each other, savoring the heady combination of music and romance.

But the body’s crude reality encroaches into this dream bubble of strobe light, artificial fog, and pulsing music.

My bladder’s been getting full more frequently now, for obvious reasons, and it is with the greatest reluctance that I tell Sin.

“Wait, I gotta use the restroom.”

“Sure.” He nods and kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll grab us some drinks in the meantime.”

The music grows slightly muffled as I enter the quiet hallway leading to the restrooms. My feet are starting to get sore from the dancing, but my spirits have never been higher.

As I’m done with my business and push open the door to the bathroom, I hear a couple of girls chatting near the sinks. At first, I automatically filter out their chatter as I wash up and freshen my makeup.

Then one of them, a willowy brunette with perky breasts and long legs, says, “I can tell you that Sin Arnoult the First’s an ass man. From personal experience, you know. He was wild this summer.”

She winks at her friends, who are giggling loudly.

The mascara in my trembling hand almost slides down my eyes. I blink as water gathers at the edges of my waterline.

The blonde is still bragging.

“On a serious note, he sure knows what he’s doing. Man’s got moves!”

She makes an obscene gesture to her friends, who laugh even louder. Meanwhile, I barely manage to slip my things into the small purse on my arm.

“Oh, he can be really gentlemanly and reserved,” the girl is saying now. “But trust me, when he lets loose . . . ugh, I couldn’t keep my voice down; it just felt so good. I was surprised he even took Petra to the ball tonight. Must be out of pity or something.”

The floor seems to be sliding out from under my feet, but I still manage to pull away from the sink, which is clutched so tight in my hands that my knuckles whiten, and stagger toward the bathroom door.

The girls’ laughter follows me all the way out, and the surrounding sounds take on a distorted feel.

A heaviness seems to settle over me. The ballroom’s lively atmosphere only emphasizes the discord I feel inside.

For a moment, I just stand there, looking around in utter distress and unsure of what to do.

In the next moment, I spot Sin by the drinks table.

He is joking and chatting with a group of sweaty guys and girls.

He looks relaxed and completely unaware of the hailstorm I plan to rain down on him.

How dare he lie to me? How dare he try to manipulate me by pretending to be this vulnerable, charming guy who was seemingly taken within me?

Blinded by fury and heartbreak, I stride toward him.

Just as I reach him, he turns and smiles at me.