Raising a brow, I stared at her. “You expect me to believe you don’t own a fake ID?”
She smirked. “But yours is real. Get us both whatever you want to drink. I’ll only have one since I’m driving.”
“Fine.” After pushing my way to the bar, I scanned through the limited options available and ordered us both bottles of some fruity alcoholic cider. Returning to Lena, I handed her one of the bottles.
After taking a sip, she turned to me with a grin. “Rule one. Finish this drink, but don’t leave it unattended. Rule two. Dance for at least one song. Rule three. Find a boy, and practice flirting with him.”
“I have to do all that?” Actually, it all sounded easy enough, except for the flirting part.
She nodded, still smiling at me.
I sighed. “Fine. Are you going to do the same?”
“Yep. Except the flirting.”
“Why do I have to flirt and you don’t?”
Her eyes shuttered. “Because there’s no one here that I want.”
I raised a brow at her firm tone but didn’t push it. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Lifting the bottle to my lips, I let the ice-cold berry liquid slide down my throat. “Mmm. This is nice.”
“You don’t drink much, do you? Best not to have too much,” she warned me.
We moved further into the warehouse, among the crowd of bodies, weaving in and out. I kept a tight grip on Lena’s hand, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. She followed her friends towards a doorway at the far side of the warehouse, and after pushing our way through a crowded corridor, we ended up back outside, this time around the back of the warehouse. There was a huge open space, all pitted, cracked concrete, and filling around two-thirds of it was what looked like a kind of obstacle course made of what I would class as junk—sheets of corrugated cardboard, crates, and tyres. People were running through it, being pelted with water balloons filled with bright neon paint, and colourful smoke bombs were being set off at regular intervals along the course, reducing the visibility. Over at the side, the large red shipping container with “Chillout Zone” sprayed on the side in huge letters caught my eye.
“The paint run,” Lena’s friend Jax announced. “Wanna go?”
I glanced back to the shipping container. “Lena? I’m going to check that out while I finish my drink. Meet you after?”
She smiled and nodded, handing me her drink, and then joined the others while I headed towards the shipping container.
As soon as I entered, I realised my mistake when I recognised the people inside. Kian leaned against the wall, facing away from me, talking to Chris, another guy from the football team. This was where the popular people were. I took a couple of steps backwards, ready to flee, when I was stopped by a hand on my arm.
“Leaving already?” Looking up, I was met by a pair of sapphire eyes, blond hair, and a chiselled jawline. Preston Montgomery III, one of the football team strikers, recently moved here from the USA.
“Yeah. Sorry, I…”
“You don’t have to go.” He took a step closer. “Raine, right?” A smile curved across his lips at the surprise on my face.
“I don’t belong here,” I said softly.
His eyes darkened. “You do. Come with me.” He tugged my arm gently, and I let him lead me over to the side of the container. “First up, we need to give you your war paint.”
“War paint?” What was going on? Placing the bottles down next to me, I let him seat me on a stool, where he spun me to face him. He gestured to the smears of paint decorating his face and body.
“Kian’s idea.” His smile grew soft, and he glanced across to where Kian was standing. As if they wer
e connected by an invisible thread, Kian’s gaze immediately went to Preston’s, a completely unexpected, huge smile appearing on his face, and I knew. Preston’s eyes flew to mine at my sharp intake of breath. He read my expression correctly and stiffened. “Please don’t tell anyone. We’re…I…”
“I would never. It’s not my place,” I assured him.
He relaxed at my words. “Thanks. I mean it. It’s…”
“If only we didn’t have to hide,” I murmured, and I didn’t know if I was referring to his situation or to mine. “If only we were free to be ourselves without judgement.”
“Yeah.” We both sighed, then laughed. I’d never spoken to Preston before, but there was something about him that made me feel comfortable around him. Dipping his fingers in the neon paint, he carefully smeared it across my cheeks, then took my hand and led me towards the back of the container. When we arrived, he directed me onto an inflatable sofa, handing me the bottle he’d been carrying for me, and sat down next to me, slinging his arm across the back of the sofa.
I finally gathered together the courage to look up and immediately wished I hadn’t. All eyes were on me, and most were hostile. Grouped on sofas, crates, and on the floor around a large, upturned crate that was serving as a table were half the football team plus Anastasia and her group of friends. I didn’t dare to look over at the sofa where Carter sat, Xavier on one side and Anastasia on the other.