Someone took my hand.
I looked to see Lev standing next to me, squeezing my limp fingers in his.
I tried to pull away. “I’m not a baby,” I told him.
I needed my hand held? Really?
“Well, you’re getting into trouble like one,” he shot back. “Now, if you wanna get into trouble, I’m coming with you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little. He really was my favorite. Probably because he wasn’t much older than me. Only a few years.
Circling around him, I jumped up on his back, forcing him to release me as I wrapped my arms and legs around him. “Please…” I replied in his ear. “If I want to get into trouble, I only have to follow you.”
He grunted, readjusting his stance with my added weight. “Get off me, wench.”
“You don’t want to make me cry, do you?”
He scoffed, grabbing me under the knees and hefting me up for a more secure hold. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Let’s get some drinks,” David called, leading us down to the party.
Ilia lit a cigarette. “Yeah, let’s see what these rich little shits think is the ‘hard stuff’.”
“Pull up your hood,” Lev told me.
I followed directions, covering myself as we descended into the noise.
Anticipation was making me giddy, but I didn’t know if I was excited to be “out” at a party, anxious that I would see Kai here, or nervous about Damon’s last words to me. What did he mean? What could possibly shock me after everything I’d seen growing up? I didn’t want anything to ruin Kai in my head.
Yep, definitely nervous.
Groups of people surrounded us, some of the girls turning their heads and following the guys with their eyes. Not a shocker. Not only did we look like we didn’t belong here in our less-than-fifty-dollar T-shirts and no-name shoes, but the guys were clearly thugs.
David stood a little less than six feet with a stockier build, but it was the shaved head and full sleeves of tattoos which made him stand out.
Ilia was the model. Or could’ve been, probably. Blond hair, bedroom eyes, sharp nose, narrow jaw—all of which made him look like a Russian James Bond.
And Lev. Still very much a kid at twenty-one years old. Infectious smile, longer black hair, shaved on the sides, looking more like he belonged in a band than buried in Thunder Bay under mundane tasks a third grader could do.
But they were attractive, I guess. Just not to me. I grew up hearing how they talked when they didn’t have to filter what they said and smelled their vomit after long nights of debauchery. Super hot.
Yeah, no. They were like Damon. Like brothers.
The guys stepped up to t
he bed of a truck with its tailgate down and a makeshift bar on display. I jumped down from Lev’s back as David and Ilia grabbed cups and walked over to the keg, filling up. Lev took a bottle of Patrón and poured a shot in a red cup.
I thought about asking for one, but he’d just say no. It wasn’t like I was a virgin to alcohol or anything. Damon liked having someone to run with when his friends weren’t around, so I’d had beer, wine coolers, mixed drinks...
But never in public. They probably knew my brother wouldn’t like it.
Looking behind him, I noticed David and Ilia still hanging around the keg, but another guy had come over and started up a conversation. They were smiling easily, looking relaxed. For once.
“Walk me around?” I asked Lev.
He raised his eyes, only briefly hesitating before he nodded. Shooting a look over his shoulder at David, he said, “We’re going to make the rounds. Be back.”
David’s eyebrows dug in with a warning. “Don’t. Lose. Her.”